


Mirrored Constellations

by Junavit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Dads of Marmora (Voltron), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junavit/pseuds/Junavit
Summary: “Alteans are awful storytellers. Their stories are not typically told to entertain, they are told to teach lessons or scare you. They don’t end with the hero saving the day and falling in love and dying old and happy, they end with the hero being eaten alive by a huge carnivorous flower because he was too arrogant or too foolish or because he didn't listen to the warning of a wise old man. They aren’t good stories. They don’t have happy endings.” Lance found the page he had been looking for and spent a moment just looking down at it before he gave Keith a fond smile, “But this one does.”





	1. When We Were Kids - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the fic that I’m angry I had to write because honestly I just want to read it. Damn. I’ve spent so long looking for a solid, multi-chapter Altean Prince Lance fic or even just a oneshot that actually explored the AU past ‘he’s a little more snotty than usual!!’ and ‘hE’s aLtEaN and here’s SEX’. Like. Come on. I’m just here to fill the hole in my heart that C.S Pacat left, put your dick away.
> 
> I also always thought it would be cool to see a fic that merged Altean Prince Lance with the Keith we’re given in the show- half Galra but fully human in appearance. I’ve seen fics that have an overly-Galra Keith mixed with canon Lance but never the other way around so. Here we are.
> 
> P.S The rating right increase but the warnings wont change.  
> P.P.S I'm not using Altean time units because 1) they're dumb as hell and 2) literally 99% if the dialogue in this is translated anyways

  
The first time Keith went to Altea he was fifteen and allowed all the autonomy of a rock that’s been glued to a plank of wood.

He was reminded of this endlessly on the long trip from Daibazaal by a pacing Kolivan, who was working himself into a sweat in an effort to convince himself he wasn't nervous.

“You’re just here to observe,” Kolivan said for what honestly had to have been the eightieth time when their ship ( _finally_ ) landed, “I had to pull some strings to let you even be on the ship ride over here, let alone to get your the clearance to accompany the Blade inside the Capitol, so if you act up it’s  _both_  our heads on the chopping block-”

“I know.”

“-not that it would matter to  _you_ , because the  _instant_  I see you loose your temper around these  _dignified Lords and Ladies_ ,” the words sounded almost comically odd coming from his rough voice, “Your corpse will be on a ship back home.”

“I  _know_ , Kolivan. It won't be an issue.”

Kolivan took a half step forward, looming over Keith, “I mean it, Child, one  _toe_  out of line and you can forget about borrowing the cruiser until you- until forever. You will never get it back.”

“Kolivan, let the kid breathe,” Antok chidded with a small smile as he passed the two of them on his way out the door of their ship, “Don’t you have any faith in him?”

Keith stood up a little straighter in his formal blacks, schooling his expression into something he hoped looked calm and trustworthy. Kolivan hesitated for a brief moment before nodding stiffly.

“Right. Of course I do. Just- don’t forget to bow your head if one of the nobles look your way. Stay behind me. And I need your word you won't speak unless spoken to.”

Keith gave a cool nod, trying to act unconcerned, but he would be lying if he said there wasn’t a bundle of nerves coiling in his stomach, if for entirely different reasons than Kolivan’s anxieties about table manners.

Ever since the two civilizations had formed their alliance a few decades back there had been a continuous stream of Alteans staying on Daizabaal for a few weeks or months at a time. Half a year ago Keith had become fast friends with one of them, a playful but earnestly considerate Altean boy his own age named Lance. Keith never learned why he was there or who he had come with- he had fallen immediately quiet and fidgety when Keith had asked personal questions so he quickly learned to avoid prying- but he learned everything important about him instead. Keith learned that he loved the rain, the sound of thunder, the feeling of mud squishing up between his toes. Keith learned that the boy loved to dance. He loved to sway to a quiet melody when he was alone but also loved to dance recklessly with laughter and whoops alongside friends and, when he was lucky enough to drag her to the floor, his older sister. He hated sour food but loved spice, he couldn’t stand losing a competition and gloating something fierce when he won, that he wasn’t above low insults and jabs but always came back around with muttered compliments that soothed stings that never carried any weight in the first place.

In return, Keith told the boy about himself as well. He spoke uneasily at first but soon his words came smooth and simple, as they sprawled on blankets in the grass watching the stars or climbed trees on the outskirts of the city or walked aimlessly through the residential district, just two kids killing time. He was more than content to follow Lance’s lead with topics, sliding careful arc around the more complicated chapters of his memories. Instead he spoke of simple things. Wonderful things. His favorite time of day. The best joke he’d ever heard. The  _worst_  joke he’d ever heard. He tried to explain the way he felt when he first read his favorite book. And Lance always listened intently, nodding, laughing in all the right placed, asking questions to encourage him to share more. He listened the way no one had listened to him in years.

Somewhere between arguing about whose planet had scarier sea creatures and teaching each other the foulest words in their respective languages, Keith realized he had finally found something he had always longed for but never had- a friend. His first ever true friend. Keith had had acquaintances before, when he was younger, but he had never had this. Someone who understood him. Someone who could listened to what he said and always only hear what he meant.

The rest of the time Lance was on Daibazaal, Keith had a warmth in his heart whenever they were together and a knife in his gut every time he remembered that one day Lance would leave. Because Alteans never stayed. They came in small groups on some business always related to the alliance and were gone right when you had gotten used to them, like flowers in the spring.

In the three months they spent together Lance was only free in odd intervals, early in the morning and late at night one day and then free all afternoon but busy all night the next. Lance would often go days without making any contact with Keith at all, until one day, three months after Lance had first shown up, Keith didn’t see Lance for the sixth day in a row and he knew he was gone. He had probably already been back on Altea for three days at that point. He was probably happy to be reunited with all his other friends, laughing and dancing and forgetting about the odd half-Galra kid he had once met on Daibazaal.

But Keith couldn’t forget, and he soon realized that having one friend was almost worse than having none at all. Now he had something to miss. So of course he was nervous. He was going to the Altean Capitol, and since virtually all of the Alteans who visited Daibazaal had some relation to the monarchy there was a slim but very real possibility that he was going to see Lance again. Keith didn’t know if he was more nervous at the chance of seeing Lance after all these months or of the chance that he wasn’t going to see him at all.

“I swear.” And then, more earnestly, “I can do this, Kolivan. I’m almost an adult.”

“Yeah, almost.” Came Kolivan’s gruff reply, narrowing his eyes to make it clear that he thought Keith was closer to becoming the Emperor than he was to being considered a grown up, but he let it go. Probably turning away from threats and focusing his efforts on prayer.

The two of them followed Antok out of the ship and onto the gangplank. As soon as Keith stepped out from underneath the shadow of the ships’ underbelly he immediately snapped his eyes shut in the unexpected harsh light, wincing until his eyes adjusted and he slowly was able to re-open them to see…

_Color_. Greens and blues and pinks and yellows and colors he didn’t even have names for danced around him in the grass, in the sky, and in the thousands of flower that carpeted the land. It was like he had just stepped into a technicolor dreamscape unlike anything Keith had seen in all his fifteen years. They had landed just outside a side entry of the castle- a masterpiece of interwoven arches and ornately carved statues of peaceful animals that looked so realistic Keith half expected to see a rise and fall of breath.

If the rest of this planet was even a tenth as breathtaking as this then Altea more beautiful place Keith could have ever imagined. He couldn’t believed people  _lived_  here. He couldn’t believe  _Lance_  lived here, in this phantasmic dreamworld.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” There was a touch of amusement in Kolivan’s hushed voice. Keith realized with a rush of embarrassment how he must look- his jaw slack, eyes wide, craning to look in every direction as fast as he could- and immediately reigned his amazement behind a mask of professional impassivity, feeling a warmth in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun.

The three of them joined the rest of their team who were waiting patiently at the end of the walkway. Of the five Marmora Bladesmen and the eight Galra officials they accompanied, exactly none of the crew from Daibazaal seemed taken by the sight of Altea like Keith had been. Of course, they had all been here before, many of them more times than they could count. Keith’s attention focused on the three unfamiliar figures who were standing amongst their team who he immediately recognized as Altean.

He had gotten used to Lance’s appearance during his stay, but Keith hadn’t seen a single Altean in weeks. Their appearance caught him off guard, as it always did- dressed in whites accented with vivid highlights of color, hair ranging from chestnut browns to platinum blond and skin a spectrum of golden to rust that was so unlike the familiar purple hues of his own people.

Alteans had always seemed to Keith almost impossibly bright. On the muted backdrop of Daibazaal Alteans stuck out like a strobe light in a dark room. Keith had never imagined that an Altean could fade into the background anywhere. Now he saw that they fit perfectly into the landscape of their homeland, like a single brushstroke in a painting.

Pleasantries were exchanged and the Alteans welcomed them in that smooth, lilting accent that reminded Keith immediately of Lance in a way that made his stomach twist. The group was lead through the entry and into the castle, through hallway after beautiful hallway, past doorways left carelessly ajar that revealed flashes of impossibly decadent ballrooms and courts. Keith wished they could slow down so he could properly take everything in, properly check down every hall, yes, to look for his friend, but mostly just to admire the beauty. Every new thing he saw left him more and more breathless.

Eventually their guides led them to a set of double doors that were not unlike any of the other double doors they had passed so far and ushered them all inside. Keith, Kolivan, and the rest of the Blade trailed in last, behind the Galra officials. That mean that Keith, being fifteen and on the wrong side of his growth spurt (because he  _would_  someday be as big as at  _least_  Ulaz, he was  _sure_ ) could see essentially nothing of the room they were lead into. He scowled faintly and looked to the side, trying to content himself with admiring the floors and ceilings which were certainly admirable in their own rights, while he listened to the conversation that broke somewhere in front of him.

“Chancellor Mox! You honor us with your visit,” A new voice, deeper and warmer than the three guides but with the same wonderful accent.

“Duke Pontella, It is always a deep pleasure to visit such a beautiful planet, the gratitude is all ours.” Came the reply of Mox, who was the highest ranked in their party.

“And is His Grace the Emperor in good health?”

“Perfectly, and I trust King Alfor is doing well?”

“He is splendid! We were delighted to receive the news that Empress Honerva had recovered from her illness, that was truly a dreadful time. But come! Let us talk of happier things!”

Keith instantly realized why Kolivan had made such a big deal about Keith staying dead quiet. He would probably come off as crude and unsophisticated in this land of “His Grace” and “truly”. The first ‘con’ to Altea that Keith was aware of- it was a land of snobs.

Each of the Galra officials broke off to talk to the Altean dignitaries, forming groups of three or four, and the room quickly filled with the light sounds of polite conversation and the quiet tinkling of glass as drinks were made and distributed. Kolivan broke from his position by the door as well, moving towards one of the walls. Despite the opportunity, Keith restrained himself from looking around the wide room and risk getting distracted, focusing instead on following Kolivan, worried about misstepping. All his talk on the ship hadn’t been empty, he honestly did not plan to give Kolivan any reason to be upset with him, and right now that meant not wavering at his side, standing straight and moving as poised as he could, trying to look like some nobles’ son who was sent here to oversee things and not the tag-along fifteen year-old reject that he was.

When Galra officials dispersed from the doorway to mingle with the Altean ones, the Blade of Marmora quietly slipped to the edges of the room, taking their posts as guards. Keith trailed Kolivan the the left wall. He felt a little bit like a kitten standing next to a lion but at least doing this was familiar.

Once he was in place he took a moment to survey the room. The lavishness of the entryway hadn’t been diminished in the slightest but in this room it took a slightly different form; instead of the white and austere marbled aesthetic that predominated in the other halls this room seemed to be warmer- yes the walls were still dazzling white with a high ceiling, but the effect was dampened by about half the walls being covered by huge tapestries that probably each cost ten times more than the ship they traveled here in, each predominately navy, light purples and greys. A few tables were scattered about artfully to place down drinks or lean against, and instead of the colorful display of patterns that seemed to be inlaid on every surface these tables were a sleek black, covered from top to bottom with an intricate dance of thin silver lines painted by an expert hand. The floors were still so beautiful it almost hurt to walk on them but between large mosaics of muted blues the floors were tiled in small, geometric onyx octagons that almost reminded Keith of…

“This room was designed to look like Daibazaal,” Keith breathed in awe, just loud enough for Kolivan to hear. Keith’s chest felt tight seeing the lengths the Alteans had gone to just to make the occasional Galran official feel properly welcomed and at home. He knew the Alteans had a reputation of being kind but this-

Kolivan grunted, a short, unimpressed noise, and a second later Keith winced, realizing he had spoken not half an hour after swearing he wouldn’t. He pressed his lips together and recommitted himself to storing up all his questions for later. Unless it was really important. Of course.

He turned his attention to the people in the room. All the Alteans were fascinating to look at in their own way and his attention couldn’t stay long on any one in particular. His eyes followed one and then another, mesmerized by the lines on their faces and the way their loose clothes swooshed around them like they had found a way to weave fabrics out of water.

After a moment of intrigued people-watching karma kicked in and his skin prickled with the tell-tale unease that someone was watching him too. He ignored the feeling, figuring it was a curious dignitary who would quickly shrug off the mystery of why a child was standing next to very impressive security guard and go back to talking about the import exchange rates of red figs from Hanth, or whatever. Keith tried his best to look every bit as impassive and prideful as Kolivan, and sure enough the feeling went away… only to come back not a full minute later. Instinct got the better of him and his eyes swept the room again, this time taking in the far corner by the door that he  _thought_  had been empty.

Pushed into the far corner was a small sitting area, two couches turned to form a ‘V’ that was open to the room. Sitting atop one of these couches, one foot tucked underneath himself with the other pulled against his chest, was Lance.

Lance, but different. His hair wasn’t the same chocolate brown but was instead a startlingly bright white. Even then, Keith recognized him in an instant. He felt his shock hit him like a bullet, pushing the air from his lungs, making his jaw go slack. He didn’t even have time register that be was staring before Lance happened to glance his direction.

As soon as their eyes met, Lance froze, eyes wide.

“Kolivan!” An older Altean slipped in front of Kolivan, incidentally cutting off Keith’s line of sight to Lance, “It’s so wonderful to see you again, it’s always an honor to have the Marmora stay with us!”

Keith was still so stunned he couldn’t collect himself enough to be irritated by the interruption. He was faintly aware of Kolivan extending his arm and professionally greeting the Altean from beside him. Lance was here. He was here. The thought overwhelmed all his other processing, leaving his mind in a static loop of ‘he’s here he’s here he’s here’ with a few ‘I’m the luckiest person in the entire galaxy’ thrown in sporadically for flavor.

He was so in his own thoughts that he didn’t register the conversation happening next to him as anything but a far-away buzz until the sound of his own name rouse his attention.

“...-eith Kogane? You must be. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Keith blinked and shifted his eyes to the Altean, who was now smiling at him. Oh, shit. Uh. He darted a glance at Kolivan before he gave the Altean a stiff nodd, not knowing what to say, his thoughts still largely preoccupied with chanting ‘he’s here he’s here I’m so lucky holy shit it’s lance he’s here’.

The Altean seemed to accept his stunted response and continued, happily, “My colleagues and I have high hopes of working with you in the future! We expect great things from the son of the Koganes, if you have even half the influence of your parents then you’re destined fo-”

“I don’t,” Keith cut in, numbly, too stunned to remember his manors. He felt more than heard Kolivan sniff disapprovingly beside him as the Altean diplomat’s smile faltered a little.

“So sorry, I don’t follow, you don’t what?”

Keith opened his mouth to respond but Kolivan answered before Keith had a chance, “Keith’s training with the Blade. If he does well enough he will join our ranks when he has come of age. As a full member he will do all he can to preserve our alliance. If that means working with you as a diplomat then so be it.”

In  _hell_ , Keith didn’t add under his breath, to the merit of an extreme feat of self control.

The conversation continued for only a little after that. As soon as the Altean said his cheerful farewell and moved out of the way Keith zeroed back in on Lance. He was mostly over his shock and had a bubbly precursor of excitement. Against every statistical improbability, he had found his needle in the haystack in essentially no time at all with virtually no effort. It was a hundred times better than his best case scenario. Now they had the entire trip to spent together, and Keith could actually get his comcode this time so that they could still talk after Keith had gone back home. Finally, finally, life had laid down cards in his favor.

But as soon as his eyes found Lance again he knew something was… off. Something was wrong. Even from this distance, all the way across a room full of bustling politicians, Keith could see the minute difference in how Lance was pulled into himself, as if to make himself a little smaller. His shoulders were stiff, facing whoever he was talking to at a bit too much of an angle away from Keith to be unintentional.

What was this. First of all, by the way, importantly, what was Lance doing here in the first place? The odds of having two kids tagging along to the same meeting seemed too small, so was he here officially?? He had to have been related to someone important to have gone to Daibazaal in the first place, Keith had already known that, but Keith had no idea that his relative was so important that they could invite their son to a meeting of this caliber and no one would bat an eyes. Maybe he was the son of one of the court dignitaries? Was  _he_  one of the court dignitaries? Did Alteans have court officials so young? Was Lance  _rich_?

Also  _why was acting so cold_. This wasn’t Lance not recognizing him- the look of recognition when they had made eye contact had been undeniable. Maybe there was something Keith was missing, some unspoken Altean rule or custom or that Keith had smashed open or Lance had tripped on. Keith waited for Lance to look back. To throw him a rueful grin and shrug one shoulder faintly as if to say ‘it’s a long story, I’ll tell you later’. But even as Keith had the thought he knew it wasn’t true. There had been a different emotion written in the lines of his face. Was Lance... scared of him? It seemed like he was but for the life of him Keith couldn’t imagine why. Keith felt his heart constrict with a sudden cold fear that his best friend- his only real friend- wanted nothing to do with him. Keith had been nervous that they wouldn’t see each other, wouldn’t get an opportunity to talk, wouldn’t have the words or time to say everything they wanted to say, but it had never even crossed his mind to consider that Lance wouldn’t /want/ to speak with him.

Slowly, Keith got over his confusion and worry long enough to notice everything else that was odd about Lance, besides just the drastic change of hair color, which by the way what the fuck was up with that. He wasn’t dressed in the plain clothes- soft cotton in different shades of blues and greens- that Keith had always seen him in. He was wearing an expensive looking white number, everything perfectly spotless and perfectly tailored, shirt long sleeved with a tall collar that dipped at the neck to form a sharp ‘v’ that ended in the space between his collarbones, everything embellished with beautiful patterns woven in gold threads. The small distinct crescents under his eyes still shone a soft baby blue but just under the markings Keith could have sworn he saw gold paint catch the light, a shade brighter than his honey colored skin. His hair, other than the drastic change of color, was a little shorter, and when Keith looked closely he noticed a delicate golden circlet resting lightly amongst the white.

It took a considerable effort not to stare. Every few moments Keith’s eyes flickered back his direction and lingered for almost as long as they had been away. He couldn’t help himself. Now that he had noticed him, his white and gold seemed to almost glow. But more than that Keith kept catching himself trying to look for clues or signs that would explain what the hell was going on.

Unfortunately, the more he watched he only became more confused. Through his spying he quickly became convinced Lance wasn’t just some tag along, or if he was then he was the most respected tag along this side of the Ruxia system; Lance never reached out to talk to anyone and for the most part no one tried to address him, but the few times an Altean sat down on the opposite couch they first greeted him with a quick deferential bow that was, if Keith remembered correctly from what little Ulaz had taught him, a simplified version of the very formal and traditional Altean greeting for royal men above your rank. But how could a child of fifteen rank above any of the officials in the room?

Lance never looked in Keith’s direction again.

At one point, after the conversations seemed to be slowing down and most people were declining refills of the amber liquid that had brought a rosiness to about a third of the officials, Lance rose abruptly and strode towards to door and out of the room with a casual grace. Even though Lance was a kid and a good deal shorter than the officials in the room, they all still reacted to him as his he was the largest presence in the room, and, Keith quickly realized, he was. It wasn’t just Keith freaking out about him, everyone was reacting to him in a similar way, stepping back and dipping their heads respectfully as he passed.

Keith’s eyes followed his path out of the room, hoping desperately that Lance would toss him a covert little smile when he got a little closer, or maybe a small nod, just something, anything, to show a sign that Lance hadn’t cast him aside. But he got nothing. Not even a glance.

Keith’s eyes lingered on the door long after it closed, and when the noise in the room resumed Keith hardly noticed.

It was a test of willpower and strength that Keith didn’t break his silence and immediately ask (demand) Kolivan to tell him everything he knew about this new, richly dressed Altean that Keith once knew as the silly, kind, adventurous idiot named Lance. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, schooling his expression back to a neutral one. He thought of his promise to Kolivan. He thought of his desire to make him proud. He thought, mostly, of Shiro and his ridiculous patience exercises. He took a deep breath. Then another, counting slow seconds in his head until he felt himself relax, the hundred questions he was so eager to ask fading from a burning need to a buzzing anticipation.

Shortly after Lance swept out of the room everyone left was ushered into the hall and into another room a fairly short walk away. Keith, already on edge, tried to take advantage of a brief moment during this transitioning between rooms. Keith grabbed Kolivan’s wrist and asked in a breathless rush, “I know you said no talking but I need to know everything you know ab-”

Kolivan shot Keith a flat look and flicked his wrist out of Keith’s grip like he was shaking off an annoying pest, his ears pressing down in displeasure before turning his back to Keith and walking away to join to others in an show of belittling dismissal. Keith felt himself flush hot, first with embarrassment then with anger. Anger at Kolivan for being so demeaning, anger at the situation for being so needlessly formal, anger at Lance for acting how he had, but mostly anger at himself for depleting Kolivan’s good graces and getting nothing in return.

Keith took three more slow breaths before he followed the party down the long, regal hallway to the next set of slightly larger double doors, behind which an extravagant meal was set out on a long table that split the room almost perfectly in half. By the time he walked in, almost everyone was already seated behind little cards with their names on them. There were even seats for the Marmora. Keith was surprised to find a place card with his name printing on it, in neat, black lettering.  _Keith Kogane_. He hesitantly sat down, wondering if there had been a mistake.

When no one immediately shooed him away he tried to make sense of the seating arrangement and what system would place the unqualified adolescent nobody midway to the head of the table. By the time everyone was situated his best guess was that there was no system at all, probably some sign of hierarchical equality that would have been touching if it hadn’t been so directly counter to the only thing Keith wanted- just a quick conversation with Kolivan. Or honestly at this point with literally any of the Galra he had arrived with. But, of course, he ended up sitting squarely between two older Altean women who seemed confused why they were sitting next to a child but were too polite to ask and instead opted to ignore him for the majority of the meal, which worked well enough for Keith since he wasn’t allowed to actually talk to them anyways.

Keith’s questions burned so hot on his tongue that he almost couldn’t enjoy the strange but delicious food. He stabbed at each bite angrily with the pointy utensil that he hoped he was using correctly and listened in to the conversations around him, hoping in vain that he could gleam some answers to any of his thousands of questions of this strange place. What he would give to be able to excuse himself from this rigidly proper dinner table and be able to talk to Lance for even just five minutes- not that it would matter if Lance didn’t  _want_  to talk to him.

After the first round of plates had been cleared the man who had first greeted them in the castle, Duke Pontella, if Keith remembered correctly. He stood and dove into a short speech which was enthusiastic and well written, if lacking in literally every other category. He ducked his head modestly when he was done and smiled at the light smattering of applause before introducing someone else, with an equally pretentious sounded name, who bounded up the head of the table with the air of someone who was hyping themselves up to announce at a sporting event not give an address to a room full of tired and half drunk politicians.

Keith was trying to do his best to not look every bit as bored as he was when there was a light tap on his shoulder. He gave a small jolt of surprise before turning to see who was trying to get his attention.

Directly behind his seat, a older, stiff-looking man was looking at Keith down his nose. His lips pressed together when Keith just blinked at him, bewildered. After a moment of the both of them waiting for the other to move, the man stooped down to be able to whisper to Keith without being overheard. Keith shifted away from him slightly which seemed to set an even deeper edge to the man’s put-upon expression, “Excuse me, young Sir,” Sir? “If you would please step aside with me for a moment.”

This had to have something to do with Lance, Keith was sure of it. There was absolutely no one else on the entire planet that could have taken even the slightest interest in him. Keith knew he had to go, knew he would have follow this strange man to the furthest reaches of civilization if it meant he could have just one conversation with his friend, but oh was he dreading the next time he spoke to Kolivan. Kolivan, who Keith knew without having to look, was glaring molten daggers into the back of Keith’s head at the very moment for drawing attention to himself. He was going to kill him.

Keith swallowed hard and mentally kissed his cruiser privileges goodbye before he pushed back his chair as quietly as he could and stood to follow the peeved man away from the table.

They only traveled a few paces, just far enough that the two of them could talk in hushed tones and not be overheard. The man, who was taller than Keith realized but still shorter than most Galra, looked Keith quickly up and down with pursed lips before he held out a small folded sheet of parchment and began to speak in a dry, brooding voice.

“I am to deliver this to the young man who came with our esteemed Galra guests. The  _sender_ ,” the man spoke the last word with a thinly veiled exasperation, “wished for me to convey you are to be prompt.”

Prompt? Keith’s eyes dropped to the proffered paper, his mind a muddled mess of confusion and fear. If Lance was trying to communicate with him why hadn’t he just come himself? He hesitantly took the letter. The paper was thinner than he expected and he could see the faint traces of handwriting through the material.

“Can I- can I read it now?” He asked, glancing up to the man he now knew had to be a messenger of sorts. He received a thin, tight smile in return.

“If the young Sir believes reading it now would be proper, then he should feel free to do so.”

Keith took a moment to try to decipher that. It was clear from the man’s tone that it was in fact very much not proper, but did Keith really care that much about being proper? Still, if these were the customs here and if this messenger were to report back to Lance how improper he had acted would that give Lance even more reason to be upset with him? Or dislike him? Did he really want to risk amplifying  _whatever_  was going on? Keith slowly, regretfully, slipped the letter into the folds of his jacket. The messenger nodded stiffly, looked Keith over once more with a perfunctory sniff, and then strode off to a smaller door in the back of the hall.

The letter felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He had to know what it said  _now_. When the last sign of the man disappeared through the smaller door Keith immediately ripped the letter out from where he had tucked it and unfolded it as fast as he could, turning his shoulders away from the people at the table and any prying eyes of the waitstaff as a small measure of privacy. He didn’t /want/ to act improper but honestly none of  _these_  Alteans’ opinions really mattered.

His eyes had a moment to take in the piece of parchment itself, which seemed to be made of a material somewhere halfway between paper and silk, with a heart-wrenchingly beautiful border of painted flowers accented with gold leaf. Squarely in the middle of this beautiful of stationary a few lines of beautiful handwriting scrawled their message in black ink:

  
_Keith-_  
_We need to talk. I’ll be in the hallway outside of the Rosewater Salon._

Below that was a crudely drawn map. And that was it. It wasn’t signed, not that it mattered. Keith knew who had sent it.

He brushed the side of his thumb over the edge of the paper, feeling a small relief that at least Lance wasn’t pretending that he didn’t exist. Keith read over the note once more before folding it up quickly and slipping it back into his shirt.  _Be prompt_. Did that mean go now? Keith took a moment to glance quickly back to the table. Literally the entire Blade of Marmora was staring at him, with expressions ranging from mildly concerned confusion (Antok) to abject horror (Ulaz). He didn’t even look at Kolivan. He already knew exactly the fury that would be waiting for him there. Keith made a point to not look away too quickly. He wanted to assure them, however much he could, regardless if he believe it, that everything was fine.

An attendant, holding a platter full of new drinks, was rushing over to where Keith stood with a thin smile. He stopped a few paces away and bobbed a quick bow, all without sending so much as a ripple through the drinks on his tray, “Can I assist you with anything, Sir?”

All this ‘sir’ business was going to take some getting used to. Honorifics were pretty much only used on Daibazaal when speaking to people you personally respected or when addressing the highest ranks. Never to strangers, and especially never to strangers who were half your age and clearly causing trouble. Keith pulled himself up and tried to look like he knew what he was doing. “No, thank you.”

“Then might I escort you back to your seat?” The server asked with another tight smile.

Keith squared his shoulders, “I’m going to step out for a minute.”

“Sir, if you need something from your ship I would be happy to get someone to fetch it fo-”

Keith didn’t hear the rest. He was already walking back to the door he had entered through. He passed a few more Altean attendants who tried to ask his what he needed or where he was going and if he wanted an escort, what he thought of the meal, if everything was to his liking. Keith declined them all as calmly and quickly as he could and soon he was out the door and on his way.

The moment the heavy door closed behind him, cutting off the tail ends of the speech being delivered and the sounds of the hustle of the attendants, the clinks of plates and glasses, Keith felt his shoulders relax slightly in the calm of the unpopulated landing only to immediately tense back up when he focused on the task at hand. Finding Lance. Hoping- praying- that whatever air had surrounded Lance in the welcoming chambers would dissipate when they were alone.

The map hadn’t been super detailed but it helped immensely. Without it he could have easily gotten lost in the winding maze of the castle’s corridors where repetition seemed to be the favorite theme. Even so, he was relieved to find that his destination was pretty nearby. In fact he stumbled on Lance sooner than he expected. The letter had said they were going to meet in a hallway but Keith, knowing Lance had a flair for the dramatics, had figured it was going to end up being a hallway in name than in practice. More of a lesser great hall sort of situation. So when Keith turned a corner to see a passage much like every other hallway he had passed and saw Lance pacing in the middle of it all he froze, feeling his pulse jump in his throat.

A few arching windows filtered in golden sunlight in the last few hours of daylight, casting long shadows across the floor. Lance hadn’t noticed him yet. Keith knew he should walk closer or call out but he suddenly felt very unsteady and very unprepared for this. What was he going to say? He felt ridiculous for being nervous- Lance was his  _friend_ , after all, if he could talk to  _anyone_  he could talk to Lance- but he couldn’t forget the way Lance’s eyes had widened when he saw him earlier, how he had walked right past him with cold indifference.

Also Lance looked… different. Not just in his clothes. It was more elusive than that. Keith couldn’t pin it down but it was something in the way he carried himself, something in the way his feet touched the floor, or the tilt of his chin. Right now, pacing in a nondescript hallway he thought to be empty, dressed in a pressed but plain white garb, Lance looked more ethereal and rare than the entire Altean Capitol. Was this really the same boy that had snuck out with him in the darkest hours of the night to jump into the fountain outside of the library? The same boy that had laughed so hard he cried when Keith missused Altean slang? It seemed impossible. Keith felt a strange feeling wash over him, deeply uncomfortable from looking at someone so familiar and finding almost nothing he recognized.

Keith realized that Lance had stopped pacing and was looking his direction, halted halfway between one of his rounds. His eyes were locked on Keith’s. They were still twenty paces from each other but Keith still felt the intensity of his gaze. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

“Hey.” Keith eventually spoke into the silence because it was encroaching on unbearable, “It’s good to see you.”

Lance’s gave no sign of having heard him. His kept up the same intense searching stare. If anything, his eyes grew colder. Keith didn’t know what else to say so he walked forward to the window that Lance was closest to with slow, deliberate steps, looking out the glass as if he had come over here to admire the view and it just so happened that Lance had been here too. He was a little surprised to see that from this window he could see his ship, the ship he had flown in on, docked fairly nearby. The sun was close to setting and it was casting a warm tint over the same beautiful scene that Keith had seen they they had landed. He would have been able to enjoy it more if his stomach hadn’t been tied in a knot.

“Why are you here?” Lance’s voice wasn’t kind. It wasn’t hostile or rude, but there wasn’t a hint of the time they had spent together. The words fell flat and cold and the feelings of uncertainty and fear coalesced into a knot in the pit of Keith’s stomach .

Keith collected himself behind a carefully blank mask of indifference before he turned to face him. “It’s complicated.”

“Did you join the Blade of Marmora?” Again. Ice. Keith didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump in his throat so he gestured down to his clothes which were clearly nothing like the uniform that all members of the Blade wore. No, he hadn’t joined the Blade. Yet. Lance’s eyebrow furrowed and he tried again, his voice a little more steely, “If you didn’t join the Blade of Marmora then why did you come here with them? I know you’re not here on behalf of the Galan government so don’t even try.”

“It’s complicated,” Keith repeated, not knowing why Lance was so angry with him and hearing the frustration creep into his words, “I know Kolivan, he brought me along. It’s not important.”

“The Blade is the not organization I thought it to be if a temperamental child can leverage his position with the leader for cheap favors.”

“I didn’t  _ask_ -!”

“You should not have come here.” Lance positively spat the words. Keith grit his teeth to keep from flinching back. It stung more than he could have imaged to hear the beautiful voice with it’s lilting accent that he had dreamed of talking to again speaking so harshly. “You were supposed to be just- just  _some boy_. Not the only kid on Daibazaal who can hop onto ship to Altea whenever he damn well pleases.”

“If I could have come here whenever I pleased I would have been here the day you left.” Keith tried to make his voice placating but he was reeling under the confused and frustration of the situation so his words were more hollow than anything.

Lance’s face twisted with such disdain that Keith felt nausea roll inside him, “You disgust me.”

Keith felt the words like a knife in his chest. Half a moment later his whole body flooded with hot anger that he could do nothing to hide when he half-involuntarily snapped back, “So that’s it, then.”

“That’s  _what_?”

Keith couldn’t believe that this two-faced sack of shit was going to make him  _say it out loud_. “You couldn’t keep pretending to tolerate the half-human freak.”

Keith turned away, not wanting Lance to see any trace of vulnerability in his eyes. He looked out across the picturesque Altean skyline and steeled himself for the icy laughter, for the jeering.

But nothing came. Keith’s breath sounded too loud in his ears as the hallway was wrapped in a silence that could be felt on your skin.

The sound of Lance’s footsteps announced his approach, so that when Lance leaned against the window ledge next to him, looking not out at the view below but at him, Keith was ready to face him.

Lance was looking at Keith so intently that it was almost like he was trying to see through his eyes and down into something deeper. His mouth was twisted with the same frustration that Keith was just holding at bay, the same confusion that was scrambling Keith’s thoughts. Lance must have found something because as he looked his expression changed from hostile interrogation to an intense curiosity.

“Pretending to tolerate?” Lance said eventually, his voice more neutral that it had been, and Keith narrowed his eyes, ignoring how, against his strongest wishes, Lance’s calm voice somehow brought his anger down to a low simmer, hating how he loved how Lance repeated his words, pronouncing each syllable in carefully spoken common like it was something worthwhile and profound, “Don’t you know who you are to me?”

Keith couldn’t keep the bitterness down when he said, “I had hoped it was the same thing that you were to me but apparently-”

“And what am I to you?”

Keith was hit with a torrent of memories. “You’re idiot who would die if he went fifteen minutes without making a fool of himself.” Lance’s cold demeanor shifted for a second and his breath left him in a huff, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, and for a moment he looked just as Keith remembered. Keith felt his anger break and against his better judgement he answered a second time, this time honest. Quiet. “Lance, you’re my best friend.”

He hated how his voice broke on the word. He felt foolish saying it out loud. Like a child who thought he was loved by a god because the god had once looked his way with a smile. He suddenly felt very small and much like crying. Lance watched him for a moment longer, searching his face.

“And what else am I?”

The question confused Keith. He glared at Lance halfheartedly, “U-uh, I mean you’re- um, you’re… Altean?”

“Incredible. What else?”

Keith felt a small return of aggravation, “Lance, I don’t know what you-”

“What else.” It was a demand.

“You’re kind. You’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Lance blinked and for a moment the anger and confusion melted off his face, his eyes wide. Not even half a heartbeat later his eyes clouded over and his scowl appeared twice as vicious as before. “Do not mock me. What. am. I.”

Keith knew he was walking on thin ice. He felt nauseous, felt his heart hammering in his chest. He was overwhelmed with confusion and hurt but he tried to focus through all of that to find the answer that Lance was looking for. What  _was_  he? Rich? He looked at Lance’s fine clothes. Looked at the paint on his face. Yes. Rich. The truth of it made his mind swim but he knew that wasn’t what Lance was looking for. He remembered the way the Alteans had treated him. The circlet on his head. His hair.  _White_  hair. The color of the Altean royal house. The details compiled themselves slowly into an unmistakable truth, like watching the tide recede further and further into the ocean with innocent fascination in the moments before you somewhere deep in the black depths of the ocean a tsunami is rolling towards you.

“You’re royal.”

Keith wanted Lance to laugh it off. Wanted Lance to snort at how impossible of an idea it was but even as he said the words he knew they were true. But Lance didn’t say a word. He let his silence carry the truth for him, watching Keith’s face. Keith looked Lance over, slowly, and now the truth was so obvious he felt blind for not having seen it sooner. It was written in the way he carried himself, in the regal grace of his actions that Keith had always wrote off as due to his race not his station. It explained why Lance had gone to Daibazaal, why he had been so busy in his time there. Why he had been at the reception to welcome the Galra officials  _his own family_  had made an alliance with. Keith’s thoughts felt muddled as he replayed every interaction they had ever had, looking for clues, hints, everything he had missed.

His shock and amazement must have been written on his face because Lance’s eyebrow furrowed and he asked in a quiet voice, “Did you really not know I was the prince?”

Keith felt the floor tilt under his feet, “Wait, you’re the  _prince_?!”

“Well,  _yes_  I’m fourteen years old, I’m not the King of Altea.”

“I-I thought you were like a distant relative, not th- holy fuck-”

“Keith, calm down,” Lance held his hand out in front of him soothingly.

“How did you- you can’t be royal, your hair is brown!”

Lance looked a bit exasperated at that, “No, it’s not. It’s white. I’m a shapeshifter, my hair is whatever I want it to be.”

“But you can’t shapeshift, Lance, you can barely even channel, and you can’t be the  _prince_ , you’re too- you’re- what the  _shit._ ”

He looked as serious as Keith had ever seen him, glancing up and down the hall they were in before sighing sharply, clearly annoyed with something, “Okay. This is turning out to be a little more involved that I expected.”

Keith, however, was not ready to calm down. Lance was the PRINCE?? “How come we never talked about this!?” Keith’s voice wasn’t too loud and it was closer to angry than hysterical. A small victory.

Lance gave Keith a stare that was half exasperated, half incredulous, “Are you kidding?”

“No, Lance, I’m not  _kidding_  about being shocked that you never fucking mentioned you were the  _son of the King of Altea_! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just…” Lance made a small sound of frustration. He looked away from Keith and moved his hand to push back his hair- his  _white royal fuckin’ hair_ , a nervous gesture Keith had seen him do a hundred times, but he pulled his hand back at the last moment as if remembering that doing so would have pushed off the fine gold circlet that rested there. He made a face and lowered his hand before sighing, “Dammit, Keith. Okay. Okay. Sit on the floor with me.”

Keith blinked. Lance was already bracing a hand against the wall before he- dressed in his beautiful white outfit that was probably worth more money than Keith would ever see in one place in his life- sat down on the floor. He left one knee pulled to his chest and let the other stretch in front of him, leaning back against the white wall. When Keith didn’t immediately follow, Lance reached out to the space beside him and lightly tapped the floor.

“What are you doing?” Keith’s voice sounded tight.

Lance gestured grandly to himself, “I’m sitting.”

Keith glanced nervously up the hallway, “On the ground? Don’t you have like a code of conduct or something? Are you allowed to ju-”

“No one’s going to come,” When Keith didn’t look convinced Lance rolled his eyes and elaborated impatiently, “The Rosewater Salon hasn’t been used in eons and this hallway leads nowhere else. Come on, Keith, sit.”

“But  _why_?”

Lance spread out his arms, palms up, “So we can talk without having to feel like we’re having a showdown? Because you look like you’re about five seconds away from blacking out and need to slow down a little? Because my feet hurt? Why  _not_? Sit.” He gave the floor another series of little pats.

Keith slowly, slowly, like he was near a wild animal, took a few steps backwards and sank down cross-legged, a couple meters away. Lance’s mouth twisted a little when Keith didn’t sit down in the space he patted but he didn’t protest.

“You still look like you’re freaking out.” Lance complained after a moment’s pause.

“I am.”

“Then stop, because  _nothing’s changed_. It’s not important, it’s just-”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Lance took a deep breath, “It’s a little, um… okay.” His eyes moving away from Keith to his own hands, “Imagine that you’re me. And for your entire life,” He bit the words off with a faint bitterness, “All anyone can see when they look at you is who your father is. But then one day you finally met someone from very, very far away who has no idea who you are, and this person likes you for  _you_. Not for your family or your  _money_ but for  _you_. Imagine how wonderful that would be. How freeing. To be able to be ‘Lance’ for the first time ever. Not ‘the prince’ or ‘the son of Alfor’ just… ‘Lance’. Just me. And you’re asking why I didn’t waste that opportunity?” Lance shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t even imagine, “Everyone I’ve ever gotten close to eventually gets it in their head that I’m their big, lucky break for getting money or power or fame or-” Lance waved a hand in the air, looking around as if he was envisioning all the favors that he had been asked over the years, “-free tickets to the Ekline Light Show on Rou. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve poured my heart out for someone only to one day have them look at me and know that all they see is an opportunity to get something they want. I never told you because I’d rather keep a friend who didn’t know who I was than loose another person to greed.”

Keith listened intently and, despite himself, he felt his near-panic slowly ebb at the melancholic tone of Lance’s voice. He was more than familiar with Lance’s dramatic pouting fits but this was something else entirely- Lance had never opened up to Keith about anything very serious, and when he had it was mentioned more casually than the weather- light passing remarks and jokes that Lance brushed over before Keith even had time to wonder if he should be worried. It was jarring to hear Lance sound so somber. It kind of made Keith want to give him a hug or jeer at him until he lightened up or at least do  _something_  to chase away the clouds.

Keith took a moment to just breathe, trying to keep his thoughts from spinning. Eventually he muttered, “Didn’t know  _what_  you were.”

“What?”

“You said I didn’t know  _who_  you were and that’s not true.” Keith repeated, mostly just to test the waters, giving Lance the opportunity to tell him he was wrong. To tell him that their entire friendship was fabricated. His mind was still a muddled mess of  _’what how this isn’t possible how how how what’_  but he no longer felt that Lance wasn’t angry at him no now more than anything he just wanted to be sure where they stood.

Lance reacted in the last way Keith would have expected. He blinked, eyes wide, and then ducked his head quickly, only half hiding the small smile that he seemed unaware he was making. He looked almost demure. Of the encyclopedia of emotions that Keith had seen Lance perform this was another new and it threw Keith for a bit of a loop. After a moment Lance nodded once in agreement, almost as if to himself. “Didn’t know  _what_  I was.”

Keith didn’t know what to say so he just sat there, on the pristine, white floor of the Capitol, and watched the prince blush. After a moment Lance glanced back up at Keith with a smile that Keith was thankfully familiar with, a wicked little grin that seemed to hint at a secret joke between the two of them. Lance gave a drawn out sigh, contented, and leaned his head back until it rested against the wall. His eyes traveled over ceiling as he continued to speak, softly, warmly, “I guess I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to risk losing what we had. I didn’t want for you, of all people, to look at me the way that Shiro had. The way that  _everybody else_  does. I didn’t want anything to change.” He paused and for a moment he looked like he wouldn’t continue but then, quieter, “Every single day on Daibazaal I was praying that you wouldn’t find out who I was until gone so that at least I could pretend that you wouldn’t have been like the rest of them, even if given the chance.”

Which is why he had been so upset when he thought that Keith had intentionally come to Altea just to curry favor. Keith wasn’t renowned for seeing situations from others perspectives but he figured Lance must have been furious at him when he saw him with the rest of the Galra, clearly not there officially, leaving one possible conclusion if you didn’t know how damn weird Keith’s life was. “I- I had no idea.”

Lance smiled wryly, “I can tell. Trust me when I say that if I suspected you were lying this conversation would be going down very differently.

“How did you hide it? Isn’t it hard to stay shifted that long?”

Lance huffed a quick laugh, “ _Yes_. It  _is_. But it’s just like anything else, the more you practice. I’m a pretty great shifter now actually, so I should probably be thanking you.”

“But… but even then someone had to have recognized you, Shiro-” Keith cut himself off, suddenly realizing that Shiro  _knew_. He was a fucking ambassador of course he knew. Keith had introduced them and Shiro had gone white as a sheet before Lance had laughed and said something about how cool it was to meet a human before pulling Shiro to the side for a chat. Keith had assumed Lance was going to grill him about Earth- a subject Keith had avoided like poison whenever Lance had asked- so he stayed back and let them have their discussion, not wanting to overhear and risk remembering. “Did you make him keep this from me?”

“I didn’t  _make_  him do anything, I just explained the situation,” Lance pulled himself up to also sit cross-legged, a slight furrow in his brow, as if he was upset at the suggestion. “And yeah, a few people recognized me but you’d be surprised how infrequently people realize they’re seeing me when I’m dressed in common clothes and-” Lance switched to Altean, seemingly subconsciously, “ _-running around with a kid whose hair is such a wreck that he clearly hasn’t been within one hundred feet of a dinner party in the past year and likely hasn’t used a salad fork in his life-_ ”

“Lance, Common.” Keith understood Altean well enough but he didn’t want to risk a misunderstanding now, especially since Lance was speaking so quickly. Lance switched back so seamlessly that Keith wondered faintly if the switch hadn’t been so subconsciously after all.

“-and honestly I’m not even that well-known amongst foreigners, like everyone knows my sister because she’s high profile, being the heir to the throne, and yeah, I’ve got the hair or whatever, but when I hide that people don’t tend to recognize me so often? I’m- I mean I’m  _known_  but I’m not  _famous_  or anything like that I’m just- I’m just…”

“The prince of Altea.”

Lance shrugged one shoulder, not slowing down, “Yeah. So it’s not like I was going around- what’s Common for when you force people to do what you want by scaring them? Isn’t there a word for this?”

“Intimidation?”

“No, less direct.”

“Blackmail.”

“Yes. Thank you. I wasn’t doing blackmail to keep everyone to keep quiet. I was absolutely sure someone would have told you eventually and I wasn’t going to try to fight that. I figured Shiro would for sure, after I had left.”

“Right. Okay.” Keith’s mind was spinning. He knew Shiro only ever acted on what he felt was right and if Shiro had thought it best to respect Lance’s wishes then how could he be upset at that? His voice sounded breathless when he eventually spoke, saying the only thought his muddled mind could properly formulate, “I can’t believe this.”

“ _You_  can’t believe this?  _I_  can’t believe you never found out! And that you flew all the way to Altea to, to what, to see some lackluster nobody that you met half a year ago?”

“I didn’t actually come here just to see you,” Keith admitted, a little uncomfortable at how incredulously Lance had suggested it because in truth Keith would have done just that in a heartbeat, if he had had the means.

Lance acted for a moment like he hadn’t heard him, looking deep in thought. Keith didn’t mind the silence. It allowed him a little time to let all this new information settle. After a moment, Lance exhaled in a sharp, humorless laugh.

“It’s odd. Now that I know that you didn’t come here to get stuff I kind of want to give you stuff to show you how thankful I am,” Lance raised a teasing eyebrow, “Was this your plot all along? It’s far more complicated than all your predecessor, I’ll give you that.”

“No I- Lance, I don’t want anything from you.”

“Oh? Nothing?” There was a playful undercurrent in Lance’s voice.

Keith realized with a flood of relief that Lance was trying to pull him back into the familiar meter of their conversations that he had missed so much. He grinned weakly, feeling light as air, “I suppose I wouldn’t hate it if you spent less time telling me to get a better haircut.”

Lance faked a wince, “Nothing I can do about that, sorry.”

“Ah, then my trip was in vain.”

Lance’s smile grew a little before he looked away, down the hallway, absentmindedly bringing a hand up to scratch at the nape of his neck before looking back to Keith, his smile changed into something a little more devious, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“I don’t accept.”

“You didn’t even let me say what it was!”

“I don't need to, you have that shitty smile and we’re on the topic of my hair.”

Lance plunged onward, “You let me cut your hair- not super short, I could never do that to you, I’d just clean it up a little- and I’ll sneak you into the throne room when no one’s around.”

Keith smirked with the arrogance of a lifetime of being trained how to do that very thing, “But I could do that without your help.”

“Bet you couldn’t.”

“That, I can work with. Loser has to stop making fun of my hair.”

Lance’s quiet laugh was the best sound Keith had ever heard. He caught himself smiling faintly in return, feeling almost dizzy with relief that Lance wasn’t mad at him, that he hadn’t lost his best friend who happened to also be the fucking prince of Altea holy shit. This was going to take some getting used to.

Keith slide a palm back across on the floor behind him, leaning back and tilting his head a little, considering the boy in front of him. Short hair, blue eyes, honey skin, warm smile. Lance. But now the circlet, the impeccable white garb, the golden earrings, the paint, the rings...

Lance let him stare, meeting his gaze levely, comfortable with the silence and- if Keith knew him at all- more than comfortable with the attention.

“What?” Lance asked eventually, a slow smile finally breaking across his face.

“I’m just trying to get used to this.”

“Used to sitting on the floor?”

“You know what I meant. You’re so… I mean you’re just so normal, it’s weird to see you acting so proper and dressed so nice.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “Trust me, this is nothing. You should see some of the dresses they put Allura in. It’s a good thing she loves looking amazing because otherwise I don’t think she could stand it.”

“Are you wearing paint?”

Lance let out a nervous sort of chuckle, his finger’s moving to touch the skin just under his marks that were shimmering faintly, the gold set off honestly beautifully against the tone of his skin, “Uh, yes. I am.”

“Huh.” Keith’s eyes moved up, “And is that…” He gestured to his own forehead as a means of clarification, not quite able to ask the question. Saying ‘is that your crown’ was a little bit too overwhelming.

“What, this?” Lance pulled the circlet off his head easily, not minding or not knowing how it sent his previously perfectly placed hair into slight disarray. He held it out, “You wanna see?”

Keith felt his eyes go wide as he eyed the fine circle of gold, leaning back further, holding up his free hand almost as in defense, “N-no, I’d break it, I was just wondering what it was.”

“It’s just a circlet, I have like, eight of them. And you won't break it. It's tougher than it looks,” Lance was scooting closer, slowly as to not damage his clothes. “Here, try it on.”

“What, no-”

But Lance was already reaching out to plop it on Keith’s head. As soon as the golden ring got near Keith he froze, not wanting to accidentally knock it out of Lance’s hands. His eyes unfocused when he felt the light touch of something in his hair and then coming to rest gently on his forehead. The metal was the same temperature as his skin and so light that Keith almost didn’t feel it.

He was wearing a royal circlet intended for the son of the king of Altea. He stopped breathing.

He must have looked just as panicked as he felt because Lance scoffed and said, “It’s no big deal, you big drama queen.” Quick fingers carded smoothly through Keith’s hair, arranging it to Lance’s standard, “There. Perfect.”

Lance leaned back, admiring his work. After a short moment Lance breathed a quiet laughed and did a half-assed, sitting down iteration of the deferential bow Keith had watched a handful of people give Lance earlier.

“Your Majesty,” Lance said grandly.

It was all so ridiculous that Keith had to smile. He was rewarded with a blinding smile in return.

“I have to say, Keith, I think it looks a lot better on me.”

“It’s the color. If you have one of these in silver I bet I could give you a run for your money.” Keith raised his hands, every so slowly, to gently press his fingers to the gold.

“See, now even if I did have one in silver I couldn’t possibly allow you to go near it after a threat like that.”

“So… is this just like a show of wealth?”

Lance waved his hand in the air noncommittally, “Eh, in a way, I suppose. It denotes a place in the lineage. Allura and I have one, our mom wore one, my uncle has one but he never wears it.”

Keith felt the color drain from his face, “Wh- so it’s  _is_  like a crown?”

Lance seemed to think about that for a moment before he nodded, “Yes. Bu-”

Keith immediately yanked his hands off the circlet like it burned him. Lance rolled his eyes so hard that Keith was actually impressed.

“Stop overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting! You’ve  _seen_  what my life looks like, Lance. I don’t even have my own  _bedroom_ , you think I have enough money to pay for this thing if I break it? I would be in debt to your father for the rest of my  _life_.”

Lance narrowed his eyes a little in thought, “I’ve already told you, you’re not going to break it.”

“But-”

“They’re very, very hard to break.”

Keith gave him a long look and swallowed thickly, “...you promise me right now that if I break this you’ll help me fake my own death.”

“I promise.”

He hadn’t meant it. Keith had been fully expecting Lance to laugh and crack some joke, but Lance responded with full sincerity. Without even a hint of his usual teasing undercurrent. Keith was a little surprised to find that he felt himself believed Lance would keep his word, if it came down to it. That was… that was a lot. He tried not to think about it.

Keith slowly reached back up and with zen-like concentration, slid the circlet off his head. Instead of handing it back to Lance he held it carefully his hands and inspected it. He felt Lance watching him as he rolled it around in his hands, touching only the edges, carefully not to leave fingerprints.

It was simply made but beautiful. The metal was pressed so thin that when he looked at it from an angle he could scarcely see it at all, but it felt solid in his hands. “You said you have eight of these? Are they all the same?”

‘Well, they’re not all /mine/, I guess. There are eight extra because right now there are eleven total and only three accepted successors of the king, which is kind of an all time low.”

“Only three what of the king?” Keith looked up from the circlet at the unfamiliar term.

Lance made a face and said some Altean word that Keith was entirely unfamiliar with, “ _Aldeir_. There- there isn’t really a word for it in Common but it’s what we call a living blood relative of the king who still lives on Altea. It’s someone who has potential to take over the throne. I tried to translate but I guess it’s a little... untranslatable.”

“Still on Altea?”

“Yeah, of course. You can’t really be expected to lead a planet that you don’t live on.”

Keith thought about that. “So how many relatives do you have that aren’t… that?”

“A few more.”

Lance’s voice had grown a little curt so Keith didn’t press it. He carefully handed the circlet back and Lance accepted it, but instead of putting it back on he just tossed it lightly to the side. Keith almost had a heart attack but the metal just clicked softly a few times before coming to a rest within arms reach. Lance shrugged one shoulder. “I told you. Hard to break. So,” His voice sounded carefully light, “if you’re not here to try to use my fondness of you to talk me out of half my inheritance, why /are/ you here?”

Keith didn’t resist Lance’s obvious change in subject, knowing it was time to back off, “I was raised around the Marmora. I’m still too young to join officially but they still let me go on a few less sensitive missions. So I can see what it’s like, I suppose.”

“Woah woah woah- you were raised around the Blade of Marmora?” Lance sounded impressed, “Talk about keeping secrets.”

Keith gave Lance a flat look. “You can’t actually be comparing my not mentioning /this/ to you not telling me that you’re the son of one of the most powerful people in the universe.”

“...That is an extreme over exaggeration.”

“And to me, the Marmora were just some boring old guys that mostly ignored me unless they were lecturing me about knives.”

Lance’s mouth twitched up into a smile, “Knives?”

“They’re all really into knives.”

Lance snorted a laugh, “Alright, I can believe the knife thing but I can’t believe they ignored you. I bet you were the coolest little kid.”

“I really wasn’t. I was a mess. I’m honestly lucky they still let me do things with them.”

Lance sat up straighter, “Ooh, you do stuff with them? Do you get to go on infiltration missions? Or assassination missi- oh, heavens, Keith have you ever killed someone?! Oh! Have you ever used that power that’s like a- invisible, undetectable poison? That kills you instantly? To assassinate someone??”

“That… that last thing’s not real, it’s just a rumor.”

“Oh.” Lance sounded a little disappointed but he perked back up immediately, “So what /do/ you do?”

Keith eyed him wearily, feeling more lame by the second, “Nothing very exciting, honestly.”

“No, tell me!”

Keith gave a heavy sigh.

“Look, I’m only fifteen, they don’t let me do much of anything. I’ve mostly just helped out with domestic missions, like… okay, the most interesting thing I’ve done was I helped steer foot traffic at the last public address given by Prince Lotor.”

Lance, bless his soul, didn’t miss a beat. He just nodded, a little less enthused but just as interested, “Oh yeah, about his mother’s recovery. I read the transcript. It was a good speech.”

“I didn’t even get to hear it.” Keith admitted, almost sheepishly.

“I meant it was good as far as speeches go. You didn’t miss much.” Lance was quiet for a moment, before asking, “So then is this your first big mission?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I didn’t really want to come because I knew I was just going to be doing a lot of standing around. But Kolivan wanted me to know, um…” Shit. Kolivan. Keith trailed off, remembering the scene he left back in the dining hall. He thought of the arsenal of threats that Kolivan had conjured on the journey from Daibazaal, promising to make good on each and every one if Keith had so much as glanced somewhere improperly, and Keith had done so, so much more than that. “Uh, hey... Lance,” Keith started again, feeling his pulse pick up its tempo, “So… I don’t know anything about Altean culture.”

“Clearly.” Lance seemed a little thrown off by Keith’s sudden shift in tone.

“So just how much trouble am I in for leaving in the middle of a meal?”

Lance froze, his face slowly losing some of its color, his eyes going wide. He didn’t have to say anything- his reaction was answer enough.

Keith looked away from him, letting his head roll back so that he was staring up at the ceiling with a lifeless, “Great.”

“Oh no, Keith I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have told you to come immediately, honestly I didn’t even think you would, I figured you would’ve known not to, I was just… I was so angry I didn’t even consider- ” He broke off with one of the more colorful Altean curses, spoken so quietly that Keith almost didn’t make it out. Lance dropped his head into his hands with a pained little groan, “I’m so sorry Keith, I’m such a useless idiot.”

“You’re not,” Keith said reflexively, sitting upright and rolling out the wrist he had been leaning back on.

“I  _am_.”

“It’ll be fine,” It was pretty much the last thing from ‘fine’, “I’ll just go back and be as perfect as I can be and later I can explain everything to Kolivan. He’ll understand.” He wouldn’t. But Lance didn’t need to know that.

“No, Keith I don’t think you get it.” Lance lifted his head again, a pained expression on his face, “It’s essentially the rudest thing you could have done. I honestly doubt they’ll let you back in. And that’s not even considering-” Lance cut himself off with a wince, “No. No, you’re a guest, you’ll be fine” Lance sounded like he was trying to convince himself of something.

“I was the least important person in that entire room, Lance, I doubt any of them even noticed I was gone. It can’t be all that bad.”

“You being the lowest ranked in the room is exactly why it was so rude! Walking out mean you feel that what all the leaders were occupied with was beneath you and not worth your time. You were basically loudly announcing that you consider yourself better than them.”

The back of Keith’s mind registered that Lance had done that very thing at the welcoming party. The thought gave him an idea, “Can’t you just walk back with me? I was leaving on your summons, surely that’s enough to warrant leaving early.”

Lance suddenly looked away, a flush high on his cheeks, a weird mix of embarrassment and frustration written clearly on his face, “It’s... not that simple.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s that simple.”

Lance looked at Keith oddly, eyes full of a strange emotion that Keith could hardly begin to decipher- regret? pity?- before Lance ducked his eyes again, shaking his head quickly as if to shake off unwanted thoughts. “Look. Keith,” Lance pulled himself up to his feet. He looked to Keith, who was watching him from his place on the floor with a mix of dread and apprehension. It must have shown on his face because Lance gave him a half smile and added, “You absolute goose,” a little ruefully. “You’ve been here for four hours. I’ve lived in the swamp of Altean politics for fourteen years. Excuse me if I trust my own judgement over yours with this.”

Keith couldn’t argue with that. Lance reached out to help pull him up. Keith took his hand after a short hesitation but stood up mostly on his own, dropping it as soon as he was on his feet, “Fine. What should I do.”

“You need to get back to the dinner. Now. The less time you’re gone the better. If anyone asks, say you had to meet with Mose to discuss an issue with your lodging tonight. No one will believe you but that doesn’t matter, they wont press it.”

“Mose?”

“My attendant. He delivered my note to you.”

Of course he had an attendant. Keith could hardly wrap his mind around the idea but Lance had said it so dismissively, as if the topic bored him. “...Right. Will they forgive my leaving then?”

Lance looked at him like he was stupid, “No.”

Keith raised his hands in front of him in frustration, his words tight, “Well then, why am I learning a cover story if it doesn’t fix anything?”

“I didn’t say it didn’t fix /anything/, I said it wont forgive them for your slight.” Lance was talking quickly, impatient, as if he was running over protocols, but he wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes, “I don’t have time to explain everything to you right now, just- I promise I’ll do everything I can to help get you out of this because I know that it’s my fault and I feel awful about it. Just trust me. You had to talk with Mose. If you’re worried about making amends I would tell you to tell people that that you’re very young and very stupid and generally antsy and it caused you to go on a compulsory stroll around the grounds, apologizing profusely to everyone in the room, but I know you’re not going to do that.”

Damn, he was right. He wasn’t. Keith ground his teeth, pushing away from the wall. Kolivan was literally going to have his head on a spike.

Lance must have picked up on Keith’s sour mood because he said, his voice suddenly softer, “I really am sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. If it makes you feel better we’re both in trouble.”

“You’re the prince, how can you be in trouble?” Keith grumbled.

Lance gave a dry laugh, “Very easily, I assure you.” Keith gave Lance a flat look but Lance just gave Keith a little shove in the direction he came and said, “Now go.”

“Wait, first-” Keith have Lance a smile that was a little nervous, a little shy, “It won’t be half a year before I see you again, right?”

Something in Lance’s expression seemed to shift. “Dammit, Keith,” He said, his words more sighed than spoken. “It won’t be. I promise. I’m telling you to go back to the dinner, not to leave Altea. You’ll be hearing from me very soon. You have four days here, correct?” At Keith’s nod Lance grinned that dangerous smile, “Then it’s my turn to play host. And I intend to do a good job of it.”


	2. When We Were Kids - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo I changed the title because I realized that it didn't quite fit the entire story, it just kind of fit the first like 3 chapters. I hope it didn't confuse anyone too bad. 
> 
> Hey! Thank you for reading!! If you're here it means you read all of ch 1 and decided that it was tolerable to continue so wow you have all my love and I hope you enjoy chapter two!

“You just _l_ _eft_.”

“Does he understand the repercussions of this? Did anyone explain _anything_ to him before-”

“-just about had enough of your nonsense, Boy, if you can’t _think_  before you _act_  then-”

“-just letting him loose in the Altean Capitol? The homeland of the most delicate social circumstances that I’ve-”

“You just stood up and _left_! Hah!”

“-and no one thought to t _ell him-?!"_

_“Can I not speak?!”_

Keith had to almost shout the words to be heard over the cacophony of voices as every single member of the Marmora voiced their opinions at once. Okay- ‘had to’ might be a bit strong. He probably could have managed to be heard if he had talked just slightly louder than normal, but he hated being berated and he was frustrated that he hadn’t been given half a moment to defend himself since Thace had almost broken down the door of his borrowed room to drag him to Kolivan’s apartments for ‘a nice little family powwow’, as Thace had so succinctly described it. Keith had scarcely managed to register that the Alteans had given him an entire room to himself before Thace had barged in and started forcefully dragging him away with an almost painful grip around his upper arm that sometimes switched to the back on his neck, forcing his head down like a mother would do to an unruly child in a way that made Keith grit his teeth and flush with embarrassment and rage.

He could still feel the heat in his cheeks and he knew his flush hadn’t quite gone away, to his absolute horror, which made his situation about ten times worse because he knew he looked guilty. Keith didn’t feel _guilty_. He was just old fashioned embarrassed for having to stand in front of the entire Marmora and be treated like a child, which he _was_  which made it _worse_. If Keith had _had_  joints in his ears and if his ears had been large enough for people the actually _see_  them through his hair (he thought bitterly, for what had to have been the millionth time at no exaggeration) he could have actually communicated this without having to say ‘I am embarrassed’ which would be been even more embarrassing than just having everyone assume he felt guilty. But only just.

“We will hear you,” Kolivan said gruffly, looking only about half a second away from throwing Keith out of the fourth story window and seeing if half-humans knew how to fly as well as they knew exactly how to piss off a room of allies in record time, “We will listen because you are our blood, not because you deserve it. So choose your words carefully, Boy. For once.”

Keith swallowed, a sudden tightness in his throat at the reminder, but he lifted his chin and took a slow breath to ready himself. He moved his focus to encompass the others as well, sweeping his eyes over their group. Antok raised his canteen in Keith’s direction like Keith was about to give a toast. Ulaz, who was sitting nearby, placed his hand on top of Antok’s canteen and gently pushed it back down without a glance. Keith ignored them both and spoke slowly and deliberately, “I’m fully prepared to deal with whatever the Alteans decide I deserve, if that will help them forgive me. Or at the very least to not hold my actions against the Marmora, or any of the Galra. But I will not accept contempt from any of you for this. I value all your opinions too much to allow you to have a poor one of me.”

Keith saw Kolivan press his lips together, saw Thace’s ears twitch with amusement. Different reactions but to the same end- they thought he _did_ deserve it. Keith tried not to let that hurt.

“I’m sure most of you were ready to strangle me when I left the dinner hall and I get that. But in the moment I was working with a limited amount of information, which didn’t include the knowledge that leaving would be the equivalent of pissing in their golden, diamond encrusted pitchers of elitism-”

“ _Keith-_ ”

“-and which did include a personal summons from the prince.” Keith slipped his fingers in between the folds of his shirt and withdrew the note from Lance. He held it out, still folded, in Kolivan’s direction, sure that he would want to see the proof for himself.

Yes. Lance had said not to tell the truth. And Keith had done just as Lance had said when he had returned to the dinner, he lied over and over because Lance had told him to. But he wasn’t going to lie to Kolivan or Ulaz or any of the Marmora. Not for Lance. Not for anyone.

Keith had expected confusion or shock or outrage. What he didn’t expect was the room to be swept over with a cloud of resigned dread. Vrek’s head dropped into his hands with a low groan. Thace narrowed his eyes, ears pressing back with unease. Kolivan made no move to take the letter, his face almost as stone cold as it had been since Keith had walked back into the dinning hall, but his mouth was twisted with disappointed apprehension.

Keith glanced around quickly to take in everyone’s reactions, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. Only Antok looked just as lost as he felt.

“Wait, the prince? Which prince?” Antok broke the quiet.

“Prince Lance,” Ulaz tried to be quiet but in the otherwise graveyard silence of the room everyone could hear him fine, “It’s not like- there’s only _one_ here, Antok, Prince Lance of Altea, he’s- you know, he’s the pretty one.”

“Oh, right! Yes. I get a little confused sometimes. So many princes out there, Haxus itself has one hundred and seventy four! Hah! But yes, Prince Lance! I remember now. Hey, isn’t he the one that-” Antok cut himself, his eyes going a little wide, “Ooh, woah. I see the issue.”

“ _What_ issue?” Keith demanded, sick of feeling confused.

“Keith, Altean tradition regarding their royal families personal lives is a bit… ridged. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Ulaz started, frustratingly vague.

“Best not get too involved.” Thace added with a nod, as if Ulaz has explained everything perfectly.

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. Hurt? And how could he _not_ in be ‘involved’ with someone who he was friends with?

Vrek stood up and walked the short distance over to where Keith still had the note held up. Keith let him have it, hoping he would be rewarded with some kind of explanation. Vrek unfolded it and read its contents quickly before he looked back at Keith, his eyes sharp with scrutiny.

“He addressed it with your name.”

“Well it was written for me. So.”

“How did he know your name?”

Oh. Keith supposed he should backtrack some, “Do you guys remember when I mentioned I had become friends with an Altean who had visited around the time Thace and Kolivan were on that mission to Pax?”

“Wait- _that_ was who your friend was!?” Ulaz sputtered, “But you- you said- wasn’t he just related to an ambassador or something!?”

“I said that I _thought_ he was but he never actually told me that.”

“Blood and ash, Keith made a friend.” Antok sounded awed. He hastily tacked on, “-who’s super famous,” A moment too late.

“The son of King Alfor is a hell of a friend to have for anyo-”

“They aren’t friends.” Kolivan’s sharp voice cut through the room. Keith felt his eyes narrow but Kolivan continued before he could argue, “If they were friends the prince would not have told him to leave the dinner. Keith didn’t know better but Prince Lance undeniably did. This is not how friends treat each other.”

Keith’s voice was sharp, “He was mad at me. He’s a prince, not a saint, but we sorted it out. That’s what _friends_ do.”

“You are ignorant and blinded by your desire to be accepted,” Kolivan said bluntly. Keith had to actively stop himself from visibly recoiling from the words, “He willingly and knowingly trampled your name in the highest courts of Altea. Look at the situation for what it is, not for what you want it to be.”

Keith opened his mouth to retort that he was wrong, that it was all a misunderstanding, to try to convey that Lance was wonderful and kindhearted and that Keith was _lucky_  to be his friend, but he faltered and no words would come. His desire to be accepted?? Did Kolivan honestly think he was the kind of person that would choose to be willfully obtuse?? The accusation echoed loudly in his ears, drowning out any attempts for collect his thoughts, made all the louder by the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure Kolivan had him pegged too far off.

“Perhaps you’re right about me,” He managed after far, far too long, but his voice solid. He wasn’t brave enough to look at anyone except Kolivan, scared he would be met with pity, “But you’re wrong about Lance. He is _good_.”

Kolivan looked at Keith levelly for a long moment and this time Keith didn’t quaver for a moment under his iron gaze.

“We will discuss this later,” Kolivan said eventually.

“We can discuss it now,” Keith’s voice grew stronger with every word, “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Kolivan, maybe we should-”

“ _We will discuss this later_. The current order of business is Keith upsetting half the Altean court. Unintended, perhaps, but upsetting them all the same.”

Keith scowled but inwardly he knew there was no arguing. Kolivan had spoken with every ounce of his authority. If he had ordered a mountain to move in that voice Keith wouldn’t have been surprise to see it quake in an effort to obey.

“...I can’t blame him for a faux pas he didn’t know he was making, especially if he was asked to by a figure of local authority. He will already have to answer to the Alteans, surely that is punishment enough.” Ulaz eventually supplied, looking a little out of sorts. Antok bobbed his head in agreement with a touch more enthusiasm. Keith felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Thace and Vrek just looked to Kolivan for his decision, not offering up their own opinions.

“I agree.” Kolivan said after a pause. Keith felt a weight lift off his chest.

“Thank you, sir, I-”

“For the rest of our time here you will not cause any more trouble.”

“Yes, sir."

“I suppose you planned on learning all about Altean customs when you arrived, since it’s clear that you came here unprepared. Is that it?”

Keith gave a weak, uncomfortable smile, “I didn’t really think about it too much. I suppose I was just going to follow your lead the best that I could.”

“So you were planning on learning here. Excellent.” Kolivan pointed to a small bedside table, upon which was resting the largest book Keith had ever seen. Keith was a little surprised he hadn’t noticed it when he walked in, “I had that brought here to save you the trip you were undoubtedly planning to make as soon as you had a spare moment. It’s a great resource for learning everything that, I expect, you are beyond eager to know.”

Keith’s heart sank. Even from where he was standing the spine was so large he could make out that the title- ‘Roland’s Complete and Unabridged Guide to Courtly Mannerisms and Manners!’- was typed in the confusing and grossly intricate Altean symbols. He could read Altean fine but it gave him such a headache. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Since this should have been done extensively, far in advance of your arrival here, you must be relieved that you have all night free of duties so that you can read as much as possible tonight. You like to read, yes?”

“I mean, I-”

“Wonderful,” Kolivan walked over and picked up the book before crossing to Keith and practically throwing it into his hands. Keith caught in instinctively and the sudden weight made him stumble backward a half step. Before he could get his bearings Kolivan had already half dragged, half steered him towards to door, “I can tell you’re eager to get started. Go back to your room, I’ll come get you in the morning. I’m already eager to talk to you about all that you’ve learned in much detail.”

With one more little shove, Keith stumbled out of the open door. Before he could even turn around he heard the hiss and muted clunk of the hydraulics closing the door behind him.

Keith spent a while just standing in the hall staring at the door. Then he slowly turned, carrying the heavy book in both arms, and started the quiet walk back in the direction he came.

\--------

Over breakfast the next day Kolivan was unrelenting in his questioning, shooting question after question the moment it was clear that Keith knew the answer to the one he had previously asked. Keith answered everything best he could, feeling slightly numb from a lack of sleep. He had spent the entire night pouring over page after page of awful Altean print, studying diagrams and practicing different kinds of bows and salutes. He was fairly used to getting very little sleep it had been a long time since he had gotten no sleep at all.

The only thing that kept him from nodding off or staring mindlessly at nothing was the constant buzz of anticipation that Lance was going to come through and make good on his promise to ‘play host’. Keith couldn’t wait to see him again. He had spent half a year dreaming wistfully of having just one more conversation, just _one_ more conversation, just _one_ more… but now he realized how foolish that had been. How could he have ever possibly thought he would have been satisfied after only one conversation? He had been given a single bite of a feast and now that his appetite had been stirred all he wanted was more. And at any moment he could be handed all he wanted on a literal silver platter, so every single sound or movement was Mose coming to get him, or Lance sneaking up behind him, or an attendant heading his direction to pass him another elegant note.

By noon Keith was exhausted. He had done nothing but stand beside Kolivan during meeting after meeting for hours with nothing to distract himself from thoughts of seeing Lance. He had been jumping at every sound or sudden movement all morning and it was quickly draining him of all the energy he had left. When they finally broke for lunch Keith mumbled something to Kolivan about going to take a nap before breaking away from the crowd to head back to their quarters. Kolivan offered to send Ulaz with him but Keith refused, not wanting to keep Ulaz from his meal, and stumbled back to his room by himself. He navigated his way through the twisting castle hallways with dumb luck and sheer willpower.

The moment his head hit his pillow he expected to be lights out. But instead, his thoughts flew instantly, unsurprisingly, to Lance. He felt a jolt of energy with the sudden panic at the thought that Lance would probably try to contact him during lunch. It would have been a logical time to try, he thought staring blindly up at the ceiling, since Lance would have known both exactly where to find him and that Keith would have been on break since the entire Altea capitol all broke for lunch at the same time. Keith couldn’t escape the mental picture of Lance waiting excitedly, nervously, for Keith to respond to a note he never received. He remembered wondering if he should just give up and head back to the hall where lunch was being served but the next thing he knew Vrek banging on his door and yelling that it was time to go to another meeting. Keith pulled himself out of bed feeling like his bones had turned to iron, feeling ten times more tired than he had in the first place.

The next round of meetings and conferences seemed to last an eon. By the time he and Kolivan were dismissed Keith was not in a good mood. He was hungry, bored, tired of tensing every time someone walked into a room, and just plain tired. He couldn’t believe the Marmora regularly had assignments this pointless and dull. Just stand by a wall while some important people discussed trade? He felt more useless than the stupid expensive tapestries he was blocking everyone’s view of.

And, unless it had been during lunch, Lance never sent for him. Keith tried not be be bitterly disappointed as he got ready for bed that night. He tried not to think about how awful it would have been if Lance _had_  sent for him during lunch and he hadn’t been there and that it was _his_  fault they had gone an entire day without seeing each other even once. He consoled himself by reasoning that he would be on Altea for a three more days, so they still had time. Besides, it wasn’t like Keith had had much free time anyways. Maybe Lance had been as busy as he had been all day too, maybe he had been even _more_  busy- he was the _prince_  after all, and probably always somewhere important at any given time.

Keith went to sleep with his thoughts muddled and his mood sour.

 

 

And woke up to the sound of quiet tapping on his door.

A quick, bleary glance to the clock told him it was the middle of the night. His immediate thought was Kolivan. Kolivan had been waking him up in the middle of the night for surprise training for years. But Kolivan never knocked quickly like that. He looked back to the still-closed door and his brow furrowed in confusion for half a breath before he pulled himself slowly up from his bed, feeling as heavy as if he were made of lead.

He rolled out of bed, mentally bemoaning the loss of the warmth but already feeling more or less awake. He walked across the room and slammed his palm on the softly glowing panel and the door hissed open to reveal-

“Mose.”

Mose meant Lance. The thought was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. Keith stood up straighter, feeling every last bit of sleepiness fall off him, his annoyance melting like spring snow.

Mose was wearing his perfectly pressed, formal, uncomfortable-looking attire, despite the hour. He gave Keith a quick once over, his lips pressed into a thin line of obvious disapproval. Keith had no problem with Mose judging his current disheveled appearance. He had been woken in the middle of the night. If Mose was disappointed that Keith didn’t sleep in full courtly attire that was something he could grapple with on his own time.

“I have been sent to retrieve the young Sir,” Mose droned in a flat, toneless drawl that he still somehow managed to make sound derisive, “But I will wait for him to clean up.”

“No, I’m good to go now, just let me get some shoes.” Keith was already practically skipping away from the door to where he had placed his boots the night before. Lance had seen him literally covered head to toe in mud, he could deal with seeing him in sweatpants. Keith was slipping on his first shoe when Mose spoke again, slightly louder.

“It would be highly improper to meet the prince dressed…” Mose ran his eyes across Keith’s entire person, lingering on his hair that Keith _knew_ was a mess and a half, “below one’s potential.”

Keith snickered a little under his breath at the inordinate mounds of acute disapproval Mose managed to pack into those three simple words. “Fine,” He stood up, shoes on, and untied the long cord he kept on his wrist before holding it with his teeth and he reached up to card his fingers through his hair to get it to regain some semblance of order before he used to cord to tie everything together. His hair wasn’t quite long enough so some strands immediately fell lose to fall back around his ears. He knew he looked haphazard, at best. “There. Full potential. This is how we dress to full potential on Daibazaal. Let’s go.”

Mose seemed to accept that this was a battle he wouldn’t win and nodded stiffly, “Very well, Sir. If you would follow me.”

Lance. They were going to see Lance. Keith worked his mouth to suppress a smile, pressing his lips together and hoping that Mose wouldn’t think Keith was amused at how quickly he had acquiesced to his obvious lie. (He was, of course, it just wasn’t why he was smiling.)

Mose lead him briskly through hallways and staircases. At the late hour there was hardly anyone about the castle but themselves but Keith noticed that Mose kept them off the main corridors whenever he could, taking them through the smaller, understated passages. Keith supposed it was a shortcut but when they emerged to a landing that Keith was familiar with that he knew he could have reached pretty quickly from his rooms in a straight shot he gave Mose a doubting look.

“Are you sure you know where we’re headed?”

“Perfectly, Sir.” Came the clipped reply.

Keith wished Mose would just tell him where to go so that he could run ahead. Sure, Keith didn’t know the floor plan of this place for shit but he could have followed clear instructions. He could feel his heart jackhammering in his chest with excitement and he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with Mose if he was going to toy with him and drag this out as long as he could, ducking into rooms and slipping down passage that he assumed were meant for the staff.

Just when Keith’s frustration was about to peak, Mose stopped in front a large set of double doors.

“Here we are.” Mose glanced behind them before he reached out for one of the ornate handles, pulling it open with an obvious effort. It opened silently and Mose stepped aside, holding the door ajar for Keith to enter ahead of him, “After you, Sir.”

The moment that the door opened, Keith’s heart leapt. He could feel his eyes grow wide, felt his feet carrying him slowly into the room like being drawn in by some force outside of his own will. He knew Mose was saying something behind him as he followed him through the threshold, heard the door quietly close as Keith continued deeper into the room until he stood in the middle of a large entryway, spinning in a slow circle, looking around in delighted wonder.

The room was huge, with an arching ceiling and multiple landings that wrapped around the walls and catwalks that crisscrossed high above his head, and everywhere he looked were tall shelves brimming over with _books_.

“Welcome to the library,” Came a smug little voice. It was the only thing that could have distracted Keith from the endless shelves.

Keith looked in the direction of the voice to see Lance, his white hair still a shock that Keith was having trouble getting used to, sitting with his feet up on a desk overflowing with scrolls and screens and control panels- a strange amalgamation of past and current technology.

Keith almost couldn’t find the words, “You- how is this-” He realized he was speaking English and fumbled to switch to Common, hoping Lance hadn’t noticed or heard, “There has to be _thousands_ -”

“About three hundred and fifty thousand, yeah.”

“Why? _How_?”

“When everyone switched to electronic volumes we decided to keep an official collection of hard copies from all the worlds who were getting rid of them, just for fun, I suppose.” Lance smiled brightly, “I guess we’re sentimental.”

Keith shook his head in amazement. Most of the Galra saw hard copies as regressed and clunky. The library on Daibazaal had been an online database, not one of the biggest rooms in the Capitol. Keith was a member of a very, very, very small minority of Galra who enjoyed the feeling of pages between his fingers and the smell of the paper. His collection of eighteen books at Shiro’s was one of the largest collections of books he had ever seen in one place in years. Before this, of course.

Lance picked his feet off the desk and spryly hopped to his feet, walking over to where Keith was still looking around wide eyed, spinning in another slow circle. When Keith finally tore his eyes away from the glorious sight around him and looked at Lance he was met with the sight of him biting his lower lip and bouncing on his toes. As soon as he saw Keith’s expression, Lance’s face broke into a beaming smile. “I knew you’d love it.”

“Can I… can I look around?”

“Of course!”

“Sir, if you would allow me to accompany you I can fetch any volumes His Majesty the Prince or the young sir wishes to read.”

“Mose, you _need_ to stop calling me that. It’s embarrassing. I’ve known you for _how_ long now?” Lance threw Mose an exasperated look. Now that he was standing beside him and not mostly hidden behind a desk Keith appreciated how Lance was wearing a far more normal outfit- a slightly shimmering breezy shirt of a pale blue tucked into fitted white pants. Still a little intimidating, yes, but at least he wasn’t dressed like a celestial being of light, highlighted in gold. “And no, but thank you. You are most kind.” He spoke tightly.

“If I may, Sir-"

“You must be tired,” Lance interrupted smoothly, “You’re dismissed. Report to my chambers tomorrow morning before breakfast.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Lance had already turned his back and was walking back to the central desk. Mose bowed deeply anyways, seemingly unconcerned with the complete lack of attention, before sweeping out of the room.

Keith watched him leave, watch him until the door had closed completely behind him, which is how he caught the quick glance Mose threw back into the room the moment before he disappeared from view. He had looked… hm.

Keith slowly moved to where Lance was typing into the computer, occasionally copying somethings off the glowing holographic screen onto a small slip of paper. There was a small divot between his eyebrows but Keith couldn’t tell if it was due to concentration or if it had something to do with the exchange that just took place. He tried to test the waters.

“Be careful not to trip over a banister or anything while we’re here because if anything were to happen to you while I’m around I think that’s all it would take for Mose to declare war on Daibazaal.”

Lance’s finger’s never stilled over the keys but he threw Keith a weird look, “Why would you such a thing?”

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Not exactly. It’s more of a vibe I’m picking up.”

The muted tapping of Lance’s typing fell silent. “A vibe?”

“Like a feeling.”

“A vibe,” Lance repeated again, slowly, his eyes zoning out a little, and Keith knew he was focused more on this new vocabulary than he was on the point Keith was trying to make.

Keith brought him back in. “Yeah. That he doesn’t like me.”

Lance looked at the door Mose left through, refocused on the topic at hand. Eventually he explained, his voice a little quieter than normal, “It’s not you he doesn’t like. He likes you fine. I promise. It’s me he has a problem with.”

_“You?" K_ eith’s voice was incredulous. It pulled a weak smile from Lance, who glanced back at Keith rather timidly.

“You’re sweet to act surprised but I promise it’s a sentiment that is far from uncommon.” Lance shrugged smoothly, adopting an easy grin, his short-lived embarrassment falling off him like brushing off dust, “For Mose in particular, he dislikes me because his job requires him to do two things- to keep me safe and to do what I say. But I do everything in my power to make sure those two things rarely align.”

Keith took a moment to let that sink in, feeling a sort of tingle on the back of his neck at the words. It was an odd thing to say. Mose had seemed more than comfortable escorting Keith here, the problem wasn’t the location. The problem was he didn’t want to leave them alone. But it had nothing to do with any dislike of Keith.

There was an obvious next question lingering in the air between them. Keith didn’t want to ask it. He didn’t want to hear the answer. But Lance didn’t look away, his endlessly blue eyes locked with Keith’s, keeping him caught in the moment, daring him. And how could he back down from that?

Keith swallowed, steeled himself for the answer, “Is it not safe for you to be here with me?”

Keith got a glimpse of something vulnerable in Lance’s expression, just a flicker, but then Lance was turning back to the glowing screen. He typed a few more quick strokes before scribbling a few more things down on his paper as he spoke, his words clearly teasing. “I didn’t think someone training to join the universe's most hailed militia would worry about going to a library without a chaperone. Don’t worry. If a heavy book tries to fall on my head I sure you'll heroically push me out of the way.”

Keith scowled, “It’s not the _library_ that worries me. I don’t want to be the reason you get in trouble. And if you do and I’m involved- I’ve already been pegged as a troublemaker by the Altean court and I’m already on thin ice with Kolivan, I can’t risk-”

“If you’re that worried about it then leave.” Lance’s voice was still teasing but it had an edge to it. Blue eyes flashed to his own, as if curious to what he would do, “And maybe, when you get back to where you’re staying, you can pass on a message to the boy that I met on Daibazaal who knew that life’s not fun without a little danger that I’m waiting for him in the library.”

Fine. He really only asked for Lance’s sake in the first place, so if that’s how it was going to be, fine. Keith raised his chin a fraction of an inch and kept his feet planted right where they were. He wasn’t leaving. He hadn’t wanted to before and like hell he would now. When Lance realized his silence wasn’t a preface to his answer but his answer itself his mouth played around a smirk" 

“Good,” he stood up, snatching his paper off the desk, “Now let’s go find some books.”

 

 

Reflective of how Lance said this collection had been compiled, the Altean library didn’t just have Altean books. It wasn’t even mostly Altean books. It was as much of a museum of other worlds and societies as it was a library, and Lance was well-versed as a tour guide. As they walked through the shelves Lance would pause his happy chatter to point out different sections from different planets and systems, mentioning interesting tidbits about how all this planet’s trees produced a particular oil that reacts with the oxygen in the air over time so now all their books have turned blue, or how this language has eighty-four different pronouns that vary depending on your specific relationship with the person you’re referring too but didn’t have a word for ‘I’.

On their way to the first item on Lance’s list, they passed a huge section of books written in Daiba. Keith wasn’t exactly surprised, given their alliance, but it felt weird to be surrounded by hundreds of books written in his own language after years of being resigned to the fact that he never would. Keith made them detour, pointing out familiar titles and giving his opinions. Lance picked off the shelf the book that Keith had declared the worst book he had ever read and read the title aloud, untranslated, his accent giving a wonderfully strange exoticism to the familiar sounds.

It threw Keith for a bit of a loop. Lance hardly ever spoke Daiba around him. Keith knew that he was too worried about the embarrassment of messing up around a native speaker, but honestly Lance could have spewed nonsense and Keith would have still enjoyed listening to him try. It was rare that Keith got to hear Daiba in an Altean accent since visiting diplomats and their families rarely knew enough Daiba to use, if they knew any at all. Probably (definitely) selfishly, Keith egged on Lance to read the first page to him. After a short protest and a sharp debate, Lance relented, realizing that there was no way for him to refuse without admitting his embarrassment.

He took a deep breath and started to read. He pronounced every word carefully, so carefully, a little crease between his eyebrows, doing his absolute best. When he was done, Lance looked up from the page with a defiant glare.

“I can speak it better than I can read it.” He defended, still in Daiba, as if to prove his point. It did sound a little more comfortable.

“You did fine. Better than fine, actually.”

“Then why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re smiling.”

Keith’s smile grew even wider- half from the simple, charming, timeless pleasure of seeing ones best friend just a little humiliated, partly from the lingering enjoyment of hearing Daiba spoken so richly, with strange articulations and emphases that transformed the entire language almost into a song, and partly from how happy Keith was just to be around him, how happy he was that they had found each other again.

But, of course, what he said was, “Yeah, because your accent sounds ridiculous.”

Lance threw the book at him.

 

The first official stop on Lance’s list turned out to be a book that Keith had spoke about to Lance just once, months before. Keith didn’t even remember mentioning it.

“I wasn’t sure if you had already hunted down a copy yourself but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise by asking.”

“You remembered me talking about this?” Keith held the novel with reverent hands. He cracked the spine to a random page and skimmed the words, feeling a deep familiarity at the characters he found waiting for him there. “Have you read it yet?"

“What, that whole thing?” Lance scrunched up his nose, “No. That’s so many words.”

“Are you shitting me, you’ve just had my favorite book of all time sitting on a shelf collecting dust and you haven’t _read it yet_?”

“Keith, that would take me years." 

“It would take you two weeks at _most_ , once you get ten pages in you will not be able to stop, I swear this to you.”

 

The second book wasn’t really a book at all but a family photo album. Of course, him being a member of one of the most powerful and respected households in known civilization, the ‘family photo album’ was compiled by a host of professional photographers and printed in a series of official volume, complete with beautiful hand-painted embellishments and gold gilding.

The two of them sat on the floor with the album open between the two of them, Lance flipping forward through the pages with mostly Alfor, Allura and a women who Keith assumed was Queen Melenor. Lance stopped when he reached the pages with him on it, proudly pointing to a little baby staring wide eyed at the camera, “There’s me.”

The picture featured baby Lance, probably only a few days old and impossibly small but with the same deep blue eyes and the same honey skin, being held by a young girl with silver ringlets that fell just past her shoulders.

“Is that Princess Allura?”

“Mmhm. She was five when I was born.” Lance looked down at the picture for a moment before he smiled, “She’s cool. Oh, and here’s me with my cousin! We were born a few weeks apart so we spent a lot of time together.”

Lance flipped through the pages, skipping over some completely and lingering for a few minutes on other, re-accounting stories and memories from the later pages that showed Lance a little older, smiling and posing sometimes rather elaborately for the camera. The book was clearly focused on Allura, as the eldest and heir to the throne, but Keith’s attention was immediately captured by Lance’s presence on every page. Not just because Lance immediately pointed himself out, which he did without exception, but because even in pictures, even as a child, even standing in the background, Lance’s presence was a powerful thing.

Eventually Keith started to notice other things about the book, like how Queen Melenor, who had been in almost every pictures near the beginning, was seen less and less as the book continued chronologically. Keith knew the Queen’s health had faded slowly over a long period of years and wondered if that’s what he was seeing, watered down and half hidden behind scenes of smiling faces and long-winded captions detailing happy memories.

“- which was ridiculous, of course, because it was _my_ birthday, so of course I should have been allowed to…” Lance trailed off in the middle of his story, noticing that Keith wasn’t really listening but looking intently at one of the photos. Lance looked at the page as well, “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, I was listening, I was just… you look a lot like your mother.”

Lance’s eyes went wide and he blinked a number of times before he looked down to where her likeness shone from the page, as if just now noticing she was there. “Oh.”

Keith’s stomach turned to ice at the hollow tone of his voice. He had said the wrong thing, of course, _of course_ , he was so irredeemably stupid why would _you mention his dead mother_ _you socially incompetent_ _fucking moron_ -

“We don’t um. We don’t really… talk about it?”

“Fuck, Lance, I’m so sorry, forget I said anything, we can just-”

“Nonono it’s okay!” Lance reached out to stop Keith’s hands from turning the page, his fingers closing around Keith’s wrists, “It’s okay.” He repeated, more firmly.

Keith drew back his hand and Lance released his hold on him, sitting back a little. It wasn’t ‘okay’, he had seen the flash of pain in Lance’s eyes.

Lance must have read his concern. He went back to looking at her picture, a little more thoughtfully this time. “You just- I wasn’t expecting you to…” He swallowed and tried again, a little more composed, “I would like to, sometimes. Talk about her. But when she died my father just completely shut down and essentially forbid anyone from mentioning her and things just… stayed that way.” He took a slow breath, “I’m just not used to people bringing her up.”

“It won't happen again.”

Lance shook his head, “No, that’s not- you don’t get it. That’s what’s so dumb, she was the most, the most incredible person I’ve ever met and she did so many wonderful things so why shouldn’t we talk about her? Why should we act like she was never even here?”

Keith didn’t say anything, he just listened, knowing he was the last person whose opinions mattered right now.

“She would have liked you.” Lance declared suddenly, looking up from the picture. He nodded to himself, “She would have liked you a lot.”

Some dark emotion rolled in Keith’s stomach. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ It wasn’t quite right because Lance hadn’t exactly given him a compliment. Except he had. Except that it was the best compliment he had been given in a long, long time.

Keith’s expression must have been answer enough because Lance nodded again and looked down at his hands. The two of them let silence fill the space between them and through that silence Keith tried to say everything he couldn’t say out loud- ‘I know what it’s like, I’m here for you, you can talk to me, you don’t have to be alone’. Everything he wished had been said to him.

Eventually Lance looked back up at Keith, his eyes full of some delicate emotion. “Can I, um.” He struggled for a moment, teetering on his indecision, before he tumbled into his question, almost stumbling over the quick words, “There’s this one book she used to read to me, and- it’s dumb, it’s just some little kids book, it’ssostupid, but I- I mean, would you mind terribly if we, I don’t know… flipped through it? Or we don’t have to, it’s dumb-”

Keith only vaguely followed what Lance was asking but he still interrupted with a quick, “I would love to.”

“...actually forget it, I don’t know what am I saying, I still have like four things on this list that we can look for, that’d be way more fun, let’s ju-”

“Lance, I would love to.”

Lance chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, “If you’re sure you’re okay with it we can... finish the list afterwards?”

“That sounds great.” Keith honestly couldn’t care less. He was happy doing anything as long as he was doing it with Lance.

Lance had already started gathering up the photo album and standing to his feet, sliding the album back into its place on the shelf before Keith had even fully sat up. He got the idea Lance was more excited than he was trying to let on.

Lance reached out a hand to help Keith get up and Keith accepted it, hardly on his feet before Lance started dragging him off down the rows, off in a different direction.

… But he didn’t let go of his hand. Either he didn’t realize or didn’t care but to Keith it was as if the contact overruled all his other input until it was literally all he could focus on. He was entirely unused to it. Keith tried to pull his hand back to himself as they walked as casually as he could but as soon as Lance felt Keith’s hand move away from his own he kind of jumped and immediately let go, looking down between them with a look of faint surprise before looking straight ahead.

“Sorry.” Lance muttered, distractedly. Guess he hadn’t noticed. Pretty unsurprising since Lance was such a touchy person. Keith immediately felt a little self conscious and had to stop himself from saying something dumb to excuse himself, knowing anything he could say would only make himself sound just as pitiful as he was. He wondered what it would be like to be so comfortable with holding someone’s hand it didn’t even register.

Lance seemed to know exactly where he was going without even glancing at the signs or the shelf labels- a first for the day. Shortly after they had started off towards whatever Lance wanted to show Keith, Lance picked up a weirdly heavily apologetic monologue, flipping back and forth over and over between how this was a stupid idea and how excited he was.

“I used to read it all the time and it's literally been _years_. I might not even be remembering it right, you’ll probably think it’s- look, it’s not a _good_  book, have low expectations. Better yet have no expectations, just deal with me for a minute and then- wait, here it is, okay. Okay,” He stopped suddenly in front of one of the shelves a little breathlessly, glancing at Keith with a lopsided, nervous grin before sliding one thin novel out from the shelf. He held it up a little awkwardly, “This is it.”

Keith tilted his head a little to read the title, squinting at the scripted Altean. It read, ‘Short Stories for Stormy Nights’. “Short stories?”

Lance nodded, flipping the book around in his hands so that he could look down at the cover, “She used to read me one every night before I went to sleep.”

“Every night? I didn’t realize the weather was so bad here.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Lance opened the front cover and glanced through the first few pages. He was still for a moment but then his face split into a wide grin.

“Look,” He said, his voice warm, turned this book around for Keith to see, “Look how precious.”

A series of animals were illustrated in a procession across the page. Keith didn’t recognize any of them but they looked like gentle creatures, soft and sweet and exactly what you might illustrate in a book for kids. Before Keith could comment Lance turned the book around to himself and flipped forward a few pages, his smile softening into something that looked subconscious as his eyes flickered across the words.

“We should read one.” Keith decided, not wanting Lance to feel pressured put the book back anytime soon, “I’ve never read an Altean story book.”

Lance seemed almost not to hear him for a moment but then his attention jumped from the book to Keith all at once, “What? Read one now?”

Keith shrugged, “Yeah.”

Lance hesitated again, blue eyes searching Keith’s face for… something. After a short moment he smiled, but it was all wrong. It was the smile that he wore like a mask- the grand, warm, twinkling smile that was dazzling but clearly superficial. Keith had seen that expression before but this time it clicked that this was the perfectly practiced and completely plastic smile that royalty could slip on when the situation required it.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” Lance supplied smoothly, his voice lilting pleasant and calm. It felt sickly sweet and fake.

Keith reached out and plucked the book out of Lance’s hands, “ _You’re_ not asking.”

“Really, you don’t-”

“These are pretty short, I think we could read at least two,” Keith cut him off, flipping through the pages. He stopped about halfway through, on a title page for what he guessed was one of the stories, “Did you ever read ‘The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle?’”

“Yes, of _course_ I did,” Lance had shed the pseudo-friendliness, thank the stars, but had yet to substitute some other mask in its place so his words sounded weak and thin, “Keith, you really don’t have to do this, it’s- it’s literally for children, there’s no way you’re actually interest in-”

“I want to.”

“No, you don’t,” Lance’s voice was barely a whisper now, “You’re just very, very kind.”

Kind? Keith’s eye jumped off the page to meet Lance’s wide eyes and had to quickly look back down, away from the open gratefulness written all over Lance’s face like a starry-eyed child who hasn’t learned how to control their emotions (which, Keith thought distractedly, wasn’t entirely inaccurate).

He returned his attention to the page. “So am I reading about this Mr. Whiffle or do you have another request?”

“...Read another one,” Lance said hesitantly after a brief pause, “You wouldn’t like that story.”

“Why not?”

Lance seemed to struggle for the right way to explain before he landed on, “It’s very Altean.”

“ _You’re_  very Altean and I like _you_.”

Lance went very still before he buried his face in his hands with a low groan. Keith winced at the reaction- he had been too blunt again, hadn’t he?- but when Lance raised his head moments he has an honest little smile that dissipated Keith worries immediately. When he saw that Keith was watching him, his smile slowly shifted into something entirely too smug.

“I suppose that’s a very good point,” Lance drawled, a happy quality to his voice that ruined the pretentiousness dripping from every syllable, “And I understand why, knowing me, you would assume everything Altean was equally elegant and beautiful and charming. But that that is because I am me, not because I am Altean.”

“And is your over-inflated ego related to your race or is that personal flavor as well?” Keith chided without any real heat, feeling his own smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

“My ego is in perfect proportion. If I have more than most it is because I am better than most.”

Keith had heard similar comments from Lance before but now he had the full picture. Keith didn’t know about ‘better’, but Lance was indisputably far, far more important than a majority of people. Keith had another small wave of vertigo at the reminder. “Do you talk like this around…” (Keith couldn’t quite bring himself to say ‘your father's subjects’ it felt too weird) “...other Alteans?”

Lance’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “What other Alteans? Mose? Allura? Sometimes.”

“No, like… you know, everyone. Common people.”

Lance’s smile grew. Keith knew Lance knew exactly he what was trying to ask and exactly why it was so hard for him to ask it.

So he was having trouble getting used to Lance being royalty. Sue him. He found out not even two days ago, he was allowed an adjustment period, _Lance_.

“Do I imply that I’m better than most people to the Altean masses? No. Of course I don’t. I only talk about my superiority as the Altean Prince around important visitors from civilizations that we have a delicate alliance with. I’m not stupid.”

That brought an honest laugh out of Keith. Lance used his momentary distraction to snatch the book back. He held it up, “If we’re going to read this we’re going to do it right,” He said definitively, “Follow me.”

Lance lead Keith to a nearby sitting area, complete with a small table made almost entirely out of some crystalline material and a stone hearth. When they got close Lance stopped walking and closed his eyes. Before Keith could ask, the markings high on his checks glowed an electric blue and moments later a fire sprang to life. Keith stared at Lance in amazement. He had never seen Lance channel. He had never seen any Altean channel. Although, he supposed, in retrospect, that he had seen the effects of it more times than he could count. 

Lance caught Keith staring and preened under the attention, throwing him an exaggerated wink, obviously pleased with himself. “You’re going to have to get used to that. Now that I don’t have to focus on keeping my hair shifted you can expect a lot more tricks."

“Tricks. I’m good at throwing knives but that doesn’t mean I’m doing it every twenty minutes for showmanship.”

“Nor should you. Throwing knives is a little too barbaric for the inner chambers of the Altean Capitol, I think, although I would love for you to show me later. Maybe you can learn to juggle? Then you’ll have something to do next time you’re jealous of my incredible talent.” While Lance talked he situating himself in the middle of the largest couch, immediately pulling one leg underneath him to get more comfortable.

Keith sat down on a nearby armchair, but Lance gasped like he had just poured wine down the front of his blue silk shirt the moment Keith’s ass touched the seat.

“What in the _heavens_ do you think you are doing?”

“Uhh.”

“It’s _storytime_. We’re having _storytime_ , Keith, when have you ever in your entire life heard of a storytime taking place across an entire sitting room, like we’re sitting in a cold office building reviewing legal papers? I even lit a _fire_ for you, so you could be comfortable, and you still insists on being in your stiff and emotionless Galra mode? You don’t need to be so formal, in fact, if you’re going to be this rigid and stupid you might as well just leave right now because I don’t even want to be around you like that, it makes me anxious and makes me feel like I’m friends with a boring, half-dead, empty husk of a person. Besides you need to sit over here or else we might as well not even read it. How will you follow along? You won't even be able to see the pictures from all the way over there, what is _wrong_  with you??”

So Keith moved.

It was a little difficult trying to find room to sit down near him because Lance had chosen to sit in the dead middle of the couch which wasn’t that large to begin with. Keith found room on one end, sitting gingerly in the little space Lance had left open. Lance shuffled a little to give him room but not much, leaving them almost shoulder to shoulder.

“So we’re not reading ‘The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle’ and I don’t care how much you think you like Altean stories. I’m not in the mood for something gross.” Lance said, leafing through the pages as Keith finished getting situated.

“Gross? But it’s a children’s story, how gross can it be?”

“Quite. Here’s the thing I tried to tell you earlier but then you had to go and distract me with your flattery-”

“You just took it as flattery, all I said-”

“I’m trying to tell you something important, hush.” Keith hushed and Lance continued, still flipping through the pages. He seemed to be looking for one page in particular, “Alteans are awful storytellers. Their stories are not typically told to entertain, they are told to teach lessons or scare you. They don’t end with the hero saving the day and falling in love and dying old and happy, they end with the hero being eaten alive by a huge carnivorous flower because he was too arrogant or too foolish or because he didn't listen to the warning of a wise old man. They aren’t good stories. They don’t have happy endings.” Lance found the page he had been looking for and spent a moment just looking down at it before he gave Keith a fond smile, “But this one does."

Keith leaned over to read the title- ‘The Lovesong of Davi J. Trook’. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a love story?”

“Of course it is,” Lance’s smile had wilted a little at the dubious tone of Keith’s words, “all the best stories are love stories.”

Keith snorted, short and derisive. Lance leaned a little away from him with a surprised look.

“What, you don’t agree?”

“No,” Keith said bluntly, “They’re unreasonable.”

“This might be hard for you to understand as someone who won’t even make eye contact with anyone outside of his small circle of favorite people,” Lance’s voice was stiff but not unfriendly, “but it’s not _unreasonable_ for two people to enjoy each other’s company.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Keith, leaning forward at the chance to share some of the thoughts that had been rolling around in his head for years. Because they were already sitting so close Keith felt the way Lance jumped at a little, blushing faintly a moment later. Keith felt a little bad for startling him and made a mental note to not move so quickly, “I was talking about the fact that most of the time the way those stories end is with the start of their relationship, but anyone can have feelings for someone at _some_ point. But they could hate each other in a week. Why is that a happy ending? They aren’t better people now, they didn’t accomplish anything, they didn’t triumph over evil, they just… both think each other is attractive and that’s supposed to be a good conclusion?”

“It  _is_ a good conclusion! Forget ‘triumphing over evil’, all everyone wants to feel loved.”

“But _feeling_ loved isn’t what _love_ is."

Lance huffed a laugh, his eyes wide with surprised disbelief, “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

Lance seemed at a loss of words for a moment before they all came to him at once, spilling out in a rush, “How can you say that love isn’t a feeling when literally the only thing that tells you you’re in love is how you feel about someone? I can treat two people the exact same way and one can be someone I have feelings for and the other can be a perfect stranger. That doesn’t mean I love the stranger, and the only difference is how I _feel_ about them.”

Keith knew he didn’t agree with that but he didn’t have the words for what he felt was right. He had an image, a picture of ‘love’ in him mind, but it didn’t translate into words. It was a small house somewhere on a planet very, very far away. It was the sight of his parents dancing barefoot in the kitchen, it was soft fingers brushing back his hair when he was pretending to be asleep, the sound of an old radio playing classic rock while his dad sang along. The memory of the way his parents worked as a team in everything, the way they had each others backs even when they disagreed, how they put the other first in everything on principle, regardless of how they _felt_ that day.

The thoughts were unexpected and unwelcome and hurt like a punch to a bruised rib. He distracted himself from the familiar feeling by focusing on teasing Lance. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Keith said playfully, nudging his shoulder against Lance’s to try to bring his mood back up.

“Shut up, yes you did.” Lance’s checks flushed a little again at that, just a trace of soft pink staining his golden skin. Keith wouldn’t have even noticed it if he hadn’t been sitting so close.

Keith leaned back against the back of the couch, kicking up one leg so that his knee hooked over the armrest, not wanting to get his shoes on the fabric, “Yeah, you’re right, I did. Which is why I know that if you have a favorite love story it’s probably super cheesy and gross. Are you sure you don’t want to read about Mr. Whiffle?”

“This story is _so good though_.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Okay, yes. Even a mean, cold-hearted, bitter person like you will love it, I promise,” Lance wiggled a little to get even more comfortable on the couch while Keith gave him a flat look that Lance pointedly ignored, “Can you see the pictures if I hold it like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. _The Lovesong of Davi J. Tr_ \- hey, are you okay with Altean? I can translate it to Common but it won't be as good that way.”

“Altean’s fine.” As long as he didn’t have to read it. He had had quite enough of that.

“Fantastic. Okay. _Th-_  do you want a pillow or somet-?”

“Blood and ash, Lance, just read th-”

“Okay! _The Lovesong of Davi J. Trook_ ,” Lance took a deep breath, turned the page, and began, _“A long time ago, there was a cottage by a stream on the edge of a forest. In it lived an old, kind man and his daughter, whom he loved more than anything in the world.”_

For the next few minutes the only sounds were that of the fire crackling languidly in the hearth, and the rolling, smooth sounds of Lance’s voice, comfortable and warm in his native tongue. Keith found himself getting lost in the story despite of himself. It was a simple tale of a young man, Davi, who delivered flowers to the old man’s daughter who lived outside of town everyday, everyday, everyday, and the way their relationship developed because of it. It was simple and just as cliche as Keith expected, but it read almost like a poem with the way the lines rolled off Lance’s tongue. Then again, it could just be that everything sounded like a song when spoken in Altean.

After Lance had read the final line he sighed deeply, a contented smile on his face that he reigned in before he looked up at Keith with expectant eyes.

Keith waited for Lance to speak first but soon became clear that Lance was waiting for Keith to break the silence. Then it turned into an unspoken competition of not speaking, Lance with a look of eager expectancy and Keith with his lips pressed into a tight line that pulled up at one end with the smile he was trying to repress. Eventually Lance couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh, come _on_ , Keith, what did you think!?”

“I can see why you like it.” Keith admitted, biting back his impulse to launch into a pessimistic commentary, partly because he _could_ honestly see why Lance like it but mostly because it was the right thing to do.

“Isn’t it _wonderful_?” Lance gushed, almost before Keith had finished speaking, “They’re so _happy_ together, I never get tired of it. My mom probably read this one to me a thousand times. This one and this other one that’s just a few pages back from here, it’s… yeah, this one! I think I have literally all this one memorized.”

“Could you recite it right now?”

“I could do the first page and part of the second in my sleep.”

“Here, gimme the book and I’ll check you.”

And so they spend the next few hours reading short stories out of the book, sometimes trading off who read and who listened, pausing a few times to help Keith with unfamiliar words, sharing ideas about how they would have acted different from the protagonist, or how the so-called villain was actually justified and reasonable.

At one point Keith closed his eyes for just a moment while Lance was reading another passage and quickly found that he was already half asleep. He felt the immense force of oblivion pulling at him like a riptide and he remembered that it had been almost two day since he gotten any real sleep. The mere thought exhausted him further and it took a supreme effort to force his eyes back open, not wanting to go to leave just yet. 

He slowly became aware of the silence that had descended over them. Lance had stopped reading. Keith turned his head to look at him, finding him a little closer than he remembered. He blinked heavy eyelids and tried to figure out what was behind Lance’s expression.

“It’s getting late,” Lance said, his eyes not quite meeting Keith's, his words so quiet they were barely audible.

“Mmm.”

“We should…” Lance trailed off, “... uh, we should probably… go.”

“Probably.”

But instead of getting up Lance stayed right where he was for a long moment, as if he was waiting for something. Keith, quickly growing more and more awake, raised an eyebrow. Lance blinked and finally pulled back, standing up rather quickly, suddenly adamant about not meeting Keith’s gaze. “Yeah, it’s late. We should go, I can uh, I’m-” he cleared his throat, holding the short stories book up, “I’m going to go put this up.”

Keith slowly pulled himself to his feet while Lance was gone, walked over to the fire still crackling in the hearth and watched the flames lick at the wood while he waited. He didn’t particularly want to leave but he also couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

Light footfalls announced Lance’s return. As Keith watched, the fire seemed to pull into itself, growing smaller and smaller until all that was left was the red glow on the underside of the wood. Keith turned just in time to catch the last of the blue light fading from Lance’s marks.

“I could have just poured some water on it.”

Lance smiled weakly, “I’ll walk you out.”

The trip back to the main doors was quiet. Keith was too tired to make any real effort in conversation and Lance seemed distracted. When they reached the front doors Keith reached out to pull them open but Lance stopped him with a light hand against the door.

“... What?”

Lance looked a little like he wasn’t entire sure why he had stopped him. He opened his mouth then closed it. Cleared his throat. Shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “Nothing. I’m just tired, I’m not thinking- actually, no, you know what, I do have something to say.”

Keith shifted his weight at the sudden conviction in Lance’s voice, “Okay. What is it?”

“I knew who you were the first moment that I saw you."

Keith leaned back in surprise. This was not the conversation he had been expecting.

Lance continued, "I’ve never been to Earth but I’d seen the pictures and you looked exactly like the humans, and between that and your age and your comfort with the language- it didn’t take much to figure it out. I know we’ve never talked about… Earth, or your parents, and I know you don’t want to, and that’s ok, but if you ever- stop looking at me like that and let me finish- if you ever want someone to talk to, I hope you know I’m here. But that’s- that’s not what I’m trying to say, I’m trying to say that I knew exactly who you were before you ever spoke a word to me, and I’ve been lying to you since day one. That was unfair. And I’m sorry.”

Keith took a slow breath. Let it out. “You didn’t have to apologize. I understand why you did it.”

“Still, it wasn’t right.”

“Lance. It’s okay. It was- I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Oh.”

He sounded genuinely surprised. Keith stood a little straighter. “Did you think I was?”

Lance waved hand, “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I just don't want any bad blood between us. I want- I-” He took a rough breath, “I'm just glad you're not mad. So I’m busy pretty much all day tomorrow but you’ll be seeing a lot of me the day after.”

That was going to be Keith’s last day on Altea. The next morning they were flying out before dawn, back to Daibazaal. Keith felt a small scowl cross his features at the prospect of leaving when it felt like they had just arrived. Lance laughed lightly, but there wasn’t any heart behind it.

“Don’t look too excited about it.”

“What, no I’m no-”

“No, I know. Me too.” Lance paused before shrugging with a little mischievous grin, “Maybe I can sneak on to your ship and you can take me with you.”

“I fucking wish,” Keith mumbled, “Hey. You want for me to talk to you about Earth?”

Lance nodded quickly, “Yeah, that’d- yes, I do.”

Keith pulled the door open. It was lighter than he expected and the hinges moves as smooth as silk. He looked out into the wide hallway to avoid looking at Lance, “Why?”

The question seemed to take him off-guard, “Um, n-no reason, why does it matter?”

“Because people ask me about it all the time, trusting my experience to form their own opinions. And to them I always say things like ‘it’s nice’ or ‘it was a great place to live’ because,” He swallowed hard, “-because it’s what my parents would have wanted, and it’s what helps people accept Earth into our alliance. And to the son of King Alfor I’d like to say the same thing. But if I’m being honest,” Keith exhaled sharply and met Lance’s wide eyes, “It can rot, for all I care.”

“...oh.”

"Please don't make me talk about it again."

"Okay."

“Good night, Lance.”

“...Good night.”


End file.
